


Tear Me To Pieces

by Alternate_Alien



Series: Pieces of Us [1]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Bondage, Consent Issues, Control Issues, Dark, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Joker (DCU) Has Issues, Knifeplay, Mental Health Issues, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Psychological Torture, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Stalking, Suspense, Teasing, There will be a lot more, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, will tag as I go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-01-29 01:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 118,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21402232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alternate_Alien/pseuds/Alternate_Alien
Summary: All it took was a single second for my life to change completely. One second, one glance into his eyes, one single smile that stretched the scars on his face, and I was sure of only one thing. He was going to tear my world apart.
Relationships: Joker/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Pieces of Us [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2111250
Comments: 265
Kudos: 649





	1. Devil In Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! I'm glad you've picked my fic to read and I hope you like it! :D It will be different than my Arthur Joker fics. This one is obviously Ledger's Joker and since he's more intense, I feel like this story will have to be as well. Which is why I want to remind you all to read the tags. I will tag more as I go, but the ones up right now are the ones I'm for sure about. This is gonna be dark.

* * *

_And they say, "I saw the Devil with a smilin' face"_  
_I wanna be where the shotguns spray_  
_Where God gets high and the priests don't pray_

* * *

How did I get roped into this? Sure, I was broke and kind of desperate for money, but I didn't know if I wanted to stoop  _ this  _ low to make some decent cash. Okay, yeah, it's not like I was working the street corner or anything. 

But catering? 

I had worked as a waitress before but only if you count a four hour shift during a Friday dinner rush at an Outback Steakhouse. It only took a table of douchebags who complained about everything in hopes of a free meal and an unruly toddler who deposited his mac and cheese right on my brand new shoes to convince me that waitressing just wasn't for me. I didn't care about the promise of great tips. Nothing was worth that kind of hell. 

So I guess the old saying about choosing beggars is wrong. Or at least it was before I moved out of the comfortable lifestyle of relying on my parents to help me financially. I was from a small town, one of the countless suburbs outside of Gotham and at 19, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted. 

Be on my own, find a job in some hip coffee shop and maybe meet one of those obscenely wealthy men. We'd fall in love, he'd whisk me off to Paris, propose under the Arc de Triomphe and I'd have my happily ever after. Well, it's been three and a half years and I'm no closer to that fantasy than I was the day I moved out. 

What I was close to was eviction. Which meant my previous attitude toward choosing beggars was no longer valid. I was currently complaining to myself as I tried to close the gap between the two buttons of my white, uniform shirt. Of course, at such short notice, I'd been only able to borrow a white button-down from my friend and temporary coworker, Abby. Her chest was nowhere near as...well, for lack of a better word,  _ ample _ as mine was. It was a curse,  _ not _ a blessing as I'd been told all my life. Don't let them lie to you. Big tits were far more trouble than they're worth.

I blew out a frustrated sigh and looked up at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was almost funny how ill-prepared I was to do this job. I would be required to balance trays of fancy hors d'oeuvres and weave in and out of a crowd of ultra-wealthy elites when I could barely even get my damn shirt buttoned. It was official. I was a mess.

At the door, a knock made me jump and I smoothed my hair back, hoping the catering company didn't frown upon the bun I'd thrown it up in. I had tried to make it a  _ fancy  _ bun by tying a red ribbon around it with a bow. With a deep breath, I wrenched the door open and let it out a sigh at Abby's smirking face. She leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and looked down at my attire. "Hey, you clean up well, Jacobs."

I rolled my eyes and pointed to the open gap right where my chest stretched the fabric the most. "Yeah, real nice."

Abby laughed and pulled me by my elbow out of the bathroom and into the main foyer of the penthouse suite. The caterers had arrived an hour before the party was scheduled to begin to get everything ready. As waitresses, Abby and I were responsible for one thing and one thing only: not dropping our trays. 

She'd given me the rundown earlier in the day. Smile, be friendly, only speak when spoken to and whatever we do, do not drop our trays. Which only made me more nervous. I wouldn't say I was a klutz, but I had my fair share of trips and falls in my life. And when I had a ball of nerves in my stomach as big as the entire city of Gotham, anything was possible. 

Looping her arm around my elbow, she steered me through the entrance of the suite, around a sleek, black wall, and into the ultra, modern kitchen. A team of chefs were busy preparing the bite-sized treats and they barely looked up at us as we weaved around the sleek, marble island in the middle of the room.

Abby plucked one of the treats from a pan, ignoring the glares from the chefs, and popped it into her mouth. "Don't look so worried, Nat." 

"Easy for you to say." 

I sighed and followed her to a small room, possibly an office though for now it was designated for the crates of champagne and catering supplies. She turned to glance back at me with an arch of her slender brow. "How so?"

"You're used to this. Rich and famous people don't intimidate you anymore."

"That's because I don't let them. They're just people, Nat. They all pick their noses and they all shit just like us." 

I crossed my arms over my chest and watched her rummage through the tiny, black purse she had carried in with her. She plucked something out of one of the inside zipper pouches and turned to face me. A little silver needle caught the light and I took a step back away from her. With a scowl, she pulled me closer and took my shirt in her fingers. 

"Look, just concentrate on keeping that tray from spilling and by the time these assholes are all drunk, we'll sneak away and drink their fancy champagne in the closet." She winked and secured the gap in my shirt with the safety pin she'd conjured from her purse. Once she was finished, the pin well hidden, I looked down to admire her work. 

"Thanks," I mumbled, smoothing my hand down the front of the shirt. "I could use some of that champagne right now, I think."

"Yeah right. You'd be stumbling around like a drunk after one glass. You know you're a lightweight." 

I rolled my eyes and turned as she made her way back into the kitchen, grinning at me from over her shoulder. "You're never going to let me forget it, are you? I told you a thousand times, I'd never drank tequila before."

There was no way in hell I was going to be able to defend myself. Especially not in front of the snooty chefs still preparing their little pastry puffs and caviar crackers that probably cost more than a month's rent for me. They eyed us as we crossed back to the foyer and found the other waiters and waitresses waiting for the host to come out and greet us. As we waited, Abby ducked her head toward me.

"There's no chance in hell I'll let you forget it. You flashed the bartender and tried to get the cop's phone number--"

I waved a hand at her. "Alright, alright. I've heard the story thank you very much. Let's just get this night over with."

Abby straightened as an older gentleman, already dressed in a classy tux introduced himself as Bruce Wayne's butler. He was at the front of the room and we kept our distance at the back of the crowd. As he thanked us all for being so professional, Abby leaned down toward me with a smirk. "Just think of that cash you're gonna get."

I looked down at her rubbing her thumb and first two fingers together and rolled my eyes with a smile. Why else would I be wearing this shirt that was a size too small for my chest, uncomfortable Mary Jane's, and pantyhose? The cash was literally the only thing keeping me from bolting out the door. That and the threats I'd received from my roommate earlier that morning about paying my half of the rent.

I straightened and looked at the older gentleman as he informed us that we could use the bathroom in the back hall, as the main two restrooms would be for guests. His voice was friendly, accented and calming to listen to. Still, I couldn't help my thoughts drift off as he talked. 

Maybe tonight would be the night that fantasy would come true. With all the millionaires in attendance, maybe I'd attract at least one of them. Hell, Bruce Wayne might even fall in love with me and offer to move me into his penthouse. The thought was laughable and I ducked my head to stare down at the scuff marks on my Mary Jane's. 

All I had to do was get through the next five hours. By midnight, I'd be four hundred dollars richer and not facing eviction. And to think, all I would have to do was smile and balance food on a silver platter for it. Hopefully, I'd get through the night in one piece, snag me a millionaire, and pay my half of the rent.

.

.

The party was in full swing by 7:45, though no one had seen Mr. Wayne yet. Calling him Bruce felt too informal like I wasn't allowed. I hadn't spoken to a single soul aside from Abby and the other members of the wait staff since the party started. Not like I actually believe I  _ would _ see or talk to him, but hey, a girl can always dream right? 

What I had expected out of the night, was not what happened. Abby had been right. These were just people and I had no reason to be nervous around them. Mostly because I had no time and they basically saw me as a floating tray of champagne flutes and caviar. No one looked me in the eye, no one offered a thanks when they snatched up the goodies I was carrying. 

But like I said, I really didn't have time to care. 

As soon as one tray was emptied, I was right back in the kitchen to reload another and get back out there. And let me tell you, the uber-wealthy of Gotham city absolutely loved these tiny puff pastries. I didn't know what was in them, nor did I care. It must have been something equivalent to crack judging by how many they shoveled in their mouths. The more champagne they drank, the more they ate.

The only time of the night I did get a break, to stand at the edge of the kitchen, quiet as a mouse, was when Bruce Wayne did finally arrive. I couldn't see him through the crowd, but had heard the whispers from the group of women near me that it was him. He made his spiel about Harvey Dent, giving him a glowing declaration of support and as soon as the applause picked up, I was on the move again. 

Half an hour later, Abby found me in the crowd. Her tray was empty and mine was getting close. Only two more champagne glasses to go. She eyed it with a quick glance and steered me back to the kitchen. "C'mon," she said with a sly smirk. "We get our break now."

Once we had disappeared from the crowd, she took my remaining champagne glasses and handed one to me. "Cheers!" 

She downed it in one quick gulp and I did the same, glancing cautiously to the entrance of the kitchen just in case someone would see. Would Mr. Wayne get upset if he caught us drinking the champagne he paid for? Thankfully, no one caught us and I was able to gulp the entire contents in two swallows.

Abby glanced over her shoulder and dipped a hand into the opening of her shirt. When she pulled it back out, she had a small, rolled paper tube between her fingers. My eyes lit up and flickered up to meet hers. "A joint? Where did you get that?" 

She ushered me into the room we had been using as a supply closet and shut the door behind us. A simple shrug of her shoulders made me arch my brow in suspicion and Abby rolled her eyes. "You never let me have any fun. Brad gave it to me."

"Brad? The head waiter? Wouldn't we get in trouble?"

Abby pinched the end of the joint between her lips and pulled a lighter from her pocket. She spoke out of the corner of her lips before clicking the flame on. "How else do you think we get through these things?" 

She took a deep drag and held it in before passing it to me. It wasn't like I hadn't ever smoked weed before. When I first moved to Gotham, it was my favorite way to pass the time. But it got more expensive the less money I got and I hadn't had a chance to partake in quite a while. My tolerance would be low after the past eight months without it. 

But as she held the joint out to me, blowing the smoke from her face, I figured what the hell. Half the people out there were drunk, probably had their own drugs hidden up their sleeves as well, and would never notice one measly joint shared between two people in a closet. I held it to my lips and took a drag, much bigger than I had intended. 

Abby nodded with a grin. "Hell yeah! That's what I'm talking about." She took another drag and I blew mine out with a giggle.

For the next ten minutes, we passed it back and forth while impersonating all the snooty people we'd encountered so far. As she finished up a particular scathing impression of one of the ladies out in the party, I laughed and hung my head. 

"You know," I started, feeling quite buzzed from the champagne and weed, even as low quality as it was. "I had this fantasy or whatever that I'd meet some millionaire tonight and he'd fly me to Paris and I'd live happily ever after." 

Abby snorted and shook her head. "I've thought about that so many times at events like this. It never happens."

"It'll happen to you faster than it'd happen to me." I didn't know whether it was the weed or champagne that made me feel so down on myself. "You practically look like you fit in already."

"Oh, shut up." She set the joint down on one of the crates of champagne and stood from her seat to lean toward me. "You're gorgeous, you just have to tweak your look a bit."

Before I could stop her, she pulled at the strings of the ribbon and loosened the bun on top of my head. My hair fell around my shoulders and I blinked down at the dark, messy strands. Abby circled behind me to comb her fingers through my hair, dragging it all over to my left shoulder. She twisted the elastic band back around it to make a side ponytail and tied the ribbon back into a bow. 

"Here," she said, holding out a tube of lip gloss over. "Use this."

I was much more compliant with her demands when I was tipsy and feeling nice and buzzed from the weed. No argument at all from me, which was rare. But my usual standoffish attitude had been dulled by drugs and I pulled the applicator from the tube with a slick pop that made me wrinkle my nose. The gloss was sheer, with a hint of pink hue and I spread it across my bottom lip before rubbing them together. 

Abby moved in front of me once more and scoffed. "How are you going to get a millionaire sugar daddy with your shirt buttoned all the way to your neck. Gotta show them  _ some  _ of the goods, Nat."

I stared down at her fingers as she released the top two buttons of my shirt, which should have been enough and honestly, at the moment, I wasn't too concerned about. But she went one lower and my cleavage shown out from beneath the camisole I was wearing beneath it. "I can't show  _ this _ much! They'll think I'm like a floozy or something."

"No one under the age of 65 says  _ floozy _ anymore. And no one is going to care. These guys want to see some cleavage."

My breasts never had any place in my fantasy of meeting my future millionaire husband, but then again, maybe that's why it was still a fantasy and not reality. I only wish I had worn my nice, lacy bra instead of the one I had picked up at Walmart the last time I went home. Which was a year ago. This bra had been through it, but it was comfy and I didn't exactly expect anyone to see it tonight. 

Abby put a glass of champagne in my hands and clinked hers against it with a smirk. She knocked hers back and I sipped, not wanting to risk tripping over my own feet and spilling a tray of food on some wealthy woman's designer dress. I didn't have the luxury of waiting for Mr. Millionaire to notice me tonight. I had rent to pay by tomorrow.

I opened my mouth to speak but was abruptly cut off by the sound of a blast from the party. My first guess was that someone had knocked over the pyramid of glasses that had been delicately perched for the centerpiece earlier in the night. Thank God it was someone else and not me.

Abby cursed and slipped the roach back into her bra, waving her hand quickly through the air. "God, Wayne is probably making a drunken spectacle of himself. C'mon, we better get out there and see what's up." I nodded and hurried out into the kitchen, snatching my silver tray from where I had set it on the island. I balanced the champagne flute I had sipped from on it and spotted the gloss around the lip. 

Abby hurried on ahead of me and I paused right near the wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the party to swipe my thumb across the smear of lip gloss. I'm not sure why, but at that moment, I thought that was a better course of action than to grab another glass and replace it. The alcohol and weed had seriously clouded my judgment. 

The party had gone silent and I shook the fallen hair from my face as I rounded the corner of the wall. Abby was nowhere to be seen, but I figured she moved to get a better view of whatever was happening. A woman and a man in front of me stepped to the side, as if they were shrinking back into the wall out of fright, and I was given a sudden front row view to what was going on.

My gasp was the only sound in the room and I stared, eyes wide and glossy lips parted in complete and utter surprise. A small crowd of men had moved into the penthouse. Most of them had masks on; clown masks, to be exact and they were all toting guns or various weapons. But it was the man right in front that drew my attention and refused to let it go. 

"Where is Harvey Dent?" His voice was like gravel and it immediately made my fingers tighten around the tray I carried. This was the guy people had been talking about, the one who had robbed the bank and walked away with millions of dollars. "Hmm? Where is he?"

The Joker turned in a full circle and plucked one of the shrimp skewers from a plate. He popped the garnish it into his mouth and chewed noisily while strolling down the line of people who gaped at him in terror and shock. He was too close to me. Only a few feet away and I tried to inch back on my heels but was stopped by the woman behind me. She didn't want me to move seeing as how I was shielding her from the Joker's attention. 

My head was swimming. I could feel my heart thumping against every pulse point on my body and if I survived this, I swore to any deity above that I would never smoke weed or work catering again. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut and pretend that this wasn't happening but he was making his way up the line and he reached up to take a man's face in his hands, turning his head this way and that while questioning him on Harvey Dent’s whereabouts.

He released him and I watched his hand, gloved in black leather, drop down to where I held the tray in front of me as he moved closer. The champagne flute was snatched roughly from where I held it and the majority of the contents spilled out. A few drops caught across my jaw but I barely noticed, too scared to even feel at that moment. I stared as the Joker brought the glass up to his lips--scarred and swollen  _ and so red _ \--and then he paused. The smell of him was suddenly everywhere and no matter how hard I tried to keep myself from breathing him in, it was useless. Sweat and gunpowder and something I couldn't quite recognize, though it was familiar to me. It was the strangest combination of smells I had ever experienced and it was  _ unrelenting. _

It may have only been half a second, barely any time at all, but for me, in my inebriated state, that half a second seemed to stretch into oblivion. My eyes lifted from the glass, still resting against his bottom lip, and met his dark gaze cutting right through me. How could someone's eyes be so black? It wasn't natural and as he narrowed his gaze and turned his head to face me, I felt my stomach drop while my heart leapt into my chest. 

It was my chest that had caught his attention. The Joker's gaze fell from my face, pausing briefly to the droplets of champagne rolling down my jaw before he spied the loose buttons of my shirt and the cleavage beneath. It was only a sweeping glance, no ogling or lecherous gaze, but it was enough to make me feel as if I were suddenly twice as small. Like a mouse that spotted the cat stalking it. His tongue quickly swiped at the corners of his mouth and it surprised me that it was just as red as the paint on his face. And just when I thought I would pass out from the lack of air in my lungs, he tossed the glass over his shoulder and in the same motion, reached up to wipe away the drop of champagne on my face with his thumb.

I swallowed tightly and time returned to normal in a rush of sound that was like a freight train in my head. A man was speaking a bit further away, trying to be brave in the face of so much terror, but I barely heard a word of what he said. I was frozen to the spot, trembling from head to toe while the spot on my chin where his glove had brushed against felt as if it were on fire. 

I gulped in a breath that did little to calm me and the need, some desperate, primal  _ urge _ to run was so strong inside me that it left me feeling nauseous. I turned with my tray still in my hands and shoved my way backward into the group of women who were cowering together. They could stand there and cower. I had to get out of here, had to breathe air that didn't smell like him. 

Behind the group of women, a hand gripped my elbow and I gasped. Thankfully, it was Abby's face I stared up into and she put a finger to her lips, wrenching me back toward the kitchen. "We have to leave," she hissed. “It’s only a matter of time before they start killing people and I don’t want to wait around for that.”

I could feel how hard her fingers were shaking around my elbow. I didn't argue with her. I wanted to leave just as badly as she did.

Why did I agree to this job? 

I could be at home, packing my things and moving back home to my parents as a failure. As a  _ safe, alive _ failure. Yet, this was where I had found myself; a penthouse suite, dressed in a ridiculous uniform that showed far too much skin, unable to get the smell of  _ him _ out of my head. 

Abby steered us behind the kitchen to the hallway where we had been designated to use the bathroom. Perhaps there was a back door, an emergency exit that we could use to escape, to run away and never look back. 

"Hey!" A voice, rough and deep, called out from ahead of us, and I looked up with a gasp. One of the men in a clown mask marched toward us, shotgun barrel aimed right for me and while I still held the tray in front of me, I doubt it would offer any protection in the event of a blast to my chest. "Get back in there!"

"I'm sorry," Abby said with a sniff. "We were just trying to--"

"I know exactly what you were trying to. Get  _ back  _ in there."

We turned on our heel and let him push us back into the main area of the party. Something was happening, a fight from the sounds of grunting, and I shook my head. I didn't want to go back. 

I looked down at the tray in front of me and had a brief thought that if I could turn fast enough and hit this bastard in the face with it, I could maybe get the gun. But then what? He wouldn't be knocked out by it and he was twice my size. He'd kill me just for trying to fight him. 

A gunshot rang out and Abby screamed beside me, her hand flying to her mouth. Glass had shattered and the sound of the fight had come to a grinding halt. With the barrel of the shotgun at my back, I stumbled forward and found the sleek, black wall separating the kitchen from the living room. The henchman who had found us broke away and I sighed in relief to not feel his gun at my back. 

And then the screaming started. It was everywhere and I hugged the only security I had found to my chest, hoping that the silver tray would at least slow any bullet down if I were to be struck by one. A man, pulling at the elbow of a woman in a gold gown, came around the corner of the wall and knocked into me hard. I spun and stumbled back, my hands reaching out to catch myself before I could fall. The tray fell to the ground in a clatter that seemed twice as loud as the screaming. 

Behind me, a shotgun blasted in the air and a rush of men in clown masks pointed their guns at the crowd to get away from the elevator doors. But it was who strolled behind them that I was suddenly hyper-aware of. He moved as strangely as he looked, all hunched and slow as if he were in no hurry to actually leave. And judging by him taking a moment to pick up another shrimp skewer from an abandoned tray, he apparently wasn't in a hurry. 

His eyes, those impossibly black eyes, swept across the hall and found me once more, making every muscle in my body seize tight and refuse to budge. I pressed myself hard into the wall at my back and as much as I tried to get it to swallow me up, I remained in place until he was right in front of me.

Every tiny breath I sucked in brought his scent into my head, assaulting my mind and etching itself into my memory forever. He towered over me and I could only just make out the shotgun he held loosely at his side out of the corner of my eye. His narrowed eyes swept over me, studying me, watching and waiting. 

When they flickered back up to meet my gaze once more, he  _ smiled _ . It was just a quick twitch of his mouth that I tried not to stare at and an even quicker flick of his tongue that brought my gaze to it. There was no warmth to his smile whatsoever. It was the kind of smile someone gives when they know a secret. 

With his free hand, he reached up and curled his fingers around my ponytail. I half expected him to jerk my head back and put the shotgun beneath my chin but he didn't. His fingers moved around to the bow Abby had tied in my hair and I watched as he pulled at one of the red, silk strands until it loosened and fell away from me. And with that, he turned and I was left to stare after him.

He didn't look back.

His men rushed around him, threatening anyone who tried to interfere with their getaway with a gun pointed at their face. No one tried to stop them. 

My mouth had gone dry as a desert and my head was swimming with dizziness. I was safe, now that he had left me alone and they were leaving. But I didn't feel safe. I felt as if he had taken a part of me with him.

As he stepped into the elevator and turned to face the crowd once more to say his goodbyes, I could only stare at the strip of red ribbon hanging from his hand. It stood out in contrast against the rich purple of his jacket, like a flag waving back to me. And though I had no way to know for sure, I could feel it deep down...It wasn't  _ goodbye _ . 

It was  _ until next time.  _

* * *


	2. Sleep The Day Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the kudos and comments! I know this will be a lot slower than my other fics, but I hope you'll like it!

* * *

_That makes me anxious, gives me patience, calms me down_  
Lets me face this, let me sleep, and when I wake up  
Let me breathe

* * *

It was after midnight by the time I made it back to my apartment building. Abby had insisted on seeing me home. It must have been written on my face how rattled I was by what had happened because she took one look at me outside the catering company and refused to let me leave alone. I was thankful. 

My head hurt, my knees still hadn't stopped shaking and I had no idea how to process something like that. We'd heard from the others that the Joker had dropped a woman out of the window, only for her to be saved by the Batman. There was no way I could even process that at the moment so I pushed it out of my head. It was hard enough processing the brief, strange encounter I had with the man. 

And god, his smell was _ still _in my senses. It had permeated through my clothes like I had been soaked in it. Even after changing back into my own clothes, I could still smell it. I had stood in the bathroom at the caterer, staring down at the white fabric bunched on the sink, my thoughts unable to slow down. And I'm not sure why I did it, morbid curiosity possibly, but I brought it up to my nose and inhaled. 

Just to see if he had rubbed off on it or something. 

The shirt smelled like my deodorant and whatever detergent Abby used and I frowned, lifting my face to stare at my reflection across from me. A faint whiff, as if he had walked through the bathroom moments before, met my senses and I quickly wrenched on the black t-shirt I had been wearing before. 

Abby met me outside the front door and handed me an envelope with the cash I was owed. I was relieved that it was cash and not a check. I didn't want to even think about getting up to run errands in the morning. All I wanted was to sleep tomorrow away. Maybe my head wouldn't be so cloudy after getting enough rest. 

The entire cab drive to my neighborhood was spent in silence. Both of us kept our faces turned to the window, watching the streets pass us by and I wondered if she was looking for the same thing as me; any sign that the nightmare we had encountered wasn't over like we had thought. 

The ride was uneventful and when the taxi pulled up to the curb, I threw the strap of my bag over my head and turned to Abby. She offered a sympathetic smile and let out a soft laugh. "I don't suppose you'll want to work many more jobs like this."

It was nice to laugh and joke and I shrugged. "I'm sure I'll need rent money next month so I'll be calling you. Maybe no more jobs with influential people in attendance." 

"Got it," she said with a laugh. "Weddings and boring banquets only for Natalie Jacobs." 

I wanted to say more, even apologize, though I wasn't sure why. None of it had been my fault, but I still felt sorry that we both had to experience it. Instead of saying anything, I reached over and gave her a quick hug before paying for my share of the cab fare. 

With a final glance around my surroundings, finding no Jokers creeping in the shadows, I hurried up the steps and into the building. The apartment I shared with my roommate, Chelsea, was on the second floor of an old house that had been turned into several two bedrooms. A block of six mailboxes was set up just inside the foyer and though I hadn't checked the mail in the last few days, it would have to wait until tomorrow. 

I barely had the strength to carry myself up the stairs. I had never felt so mentally exhausted before.

Our door was at the top of the stairs and to the left. 2B. I pulled the ring of keys from my pocket but before I could even put it in the lock, the door opened quickly. The wind from it blew my hair across my neck and a shiver erupted down my arms, bringing with it the faint smell of sweat and gunpowder. 

Chelsea blinked at me, her blue eyes wide with surprise. "Oh good. You're alive." She didn't sound very enthusiastic about it. 

"Um, yeah. Barely."

"I heard about the party. It's all over the news." She stepped away from the door and I walked inside, dropping my keys and bag on the table near the door. 

In the living room that was barely big enough to fit a chair and entertainment space, Chelsea's boyfriend sat sprawled out with a blanket over his lap. It made me wrinkle my nose as I turned toward the kitchen. He was here far too often without paying a share of the rent, but the lease was in her name and I had no real say in the matter. 

"You were there, Nat?" He asked, making my sneer deepen. I pulled the fridge open and snatched the orange juice I had bought a week ago. Barely had a glass of it and it was almost all gone. And since Chelsea was on the latest cleanse diet and wouldn't touch anything so sugary, I could only blame one person.

"Yeah, I was, _ Greg _. Did you drink my orange juice?"

He ignored my question and hopped up from his seat on the couch, the blue blanket flying from his legs. Chelsea rolled her eyes and sat down on the arm, watching her boyfriend cross quickly into the kitchen. "Oh, man. What's he like?"

It was impossible to ignore the sparkle in his eyes and I recoiled. My hands tightened around the neck of the bottle as I blinked at him. "What do you mean? He was…he's _ awful _. Terrifying. He threw a woman out the window, Greg! How do you think he's like?"

They stared at me and after a moment he scoffed and shook his head. "No. I meant _ Batman _."

"Oh." Awkward silence filled the small space and my pulse quickened. Flashes of those dark eyes sprang into my head, piercing through me seconds before he reached up to brush his thumb across my jaw. The wicked smile on his face as he pulled at the ribbon in my hair. Even now, hours later, I was breathless and suddenly, I remembered Greg was still waiting for an answer. "I'm not sure. I didn't see him."

His face fell and he lifted an eyebrow with a glance back to his girlfriend. She shrugged and sat down on the couch before picking up the remote. "Can we finish this movie?" 

"Yeah, sure." 

I was left alone in the kitchen, left to stare down at my juice and I closed my eyes as that smell, that acrid scent that I couldn't quite place, returned to assault my senses. No matter how much I wanted it gone, it still lingered. I had to take these clothes off, wash them or burn them. Whichever got rid of it the fastest.

With my juice in my hands, I crossed to my room and paused just outside the door to dip my hand into the bag at my side. I grabbed the envelope Abby had given me and tossed it on the desk pushed along the wall. "There's the rest of what I owe for rent. I'm going to bed."

Neither Chelsea or her boyfriend offered me goodnight and I didn't care. I shut the door behind me and stood just inside the room, pulling the elastic band from the ponytail still hanging over my left shoulder. I raked my fingers through it and piled it into a bun on top of my head, swearing to never wear it to the side again. 

And even though it was off the side of my neck, a shiver ran down my arms at the memory of his fingers curling around the strands. No. I was done thinking about this. I was ready to put it behind me, forget it happened and continue on with my life, a little more thankful that I had a life at all. 

First things first, I wrenched my shirt up over my head and tossed it into the hamper full of dirty clothes and hoped the smell wouldn't rub off on anything. I wasn't exactly sure how it had lingered for so long on me anyway. I hadn't even been wearing this shirt. Why did it smell like him? 

I hurried out of my pants and tossed them as well, not even bothering to pull on my pajamas. Despite the fact that whatever movie Chelsea and Greg were watching was incredibly loud, I crawled into my bed and wrapped the blankets around me like a cocoon. I started at the wall and listened to the sounds of explosions and gunshots coming from the television, wishing they were watching something else. _ Anything _else.

I was having a hard enough time distracting myself from what had happened without the noisy reminders every five minutes. But even after the movie was over and the two of them went to bed, I wasn't able to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, he was there, right in front of me, reaching for the ribbon in my hair and I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to distract myself from it no matter what I tried. 

.

.

I had been true to my word and slept right through the next day. Not even Chelsea making noise going to work that morning had woken me and the sky outside was growing dark by the time I finally opened my eyes. 

In our apartment, she got the master bedroom with the big closet and that was fine. She lived here before I did and her name was on the lease. She could take whichever room she wanted. And while mine was much smaller and I had no closet at all, what I did have was the window with the view. 

When I moved in, the bed had been right beneath it and one of the first things I did was rearrange the furniture so I could see the sky while lying down. Today was one of those days I was thankful that I did it. Despite it nearly being sundown, the sky was one of those brilliant swathes of color. Blues and bright orange painting the bottom of the clouds floating between the buildings across the street. I laid in bed, blankets wrapped around me like a burrito and I watched as the blue sky slowly faded into violet. 

And I would have laid there to watch it turn completely dark, but the pressure in my bladder was unbearable. I groaned as I stood from the bed and quickly dressed in pajama pants and a tank top. Usually, I wouldn't care to throw on some shorts and go to the bathroom in my bra, but there was no telling if Greg would pop in and he'd already seen me in enough compromising situations. 

The first time I met him, he thought it was Chelsea in the shower and threw the curtain open to surprise her. It wasn't Chelsea. It was me and I had screamed and tried to hit him with the shampoo bottle, thinking he was an intruder. From that moment on, I could hardly stand him. 

Out in the living room, Chelsea was home from work, sitting at the desk, working on her weekly calendar and she lifted her head to me as I walked out of the bedroom. "About time. Were you going to sleep the day away?"

I didn't respond the way I wanted to. I wanted to ask her if she was _ trying _ to be a bitch, or if it came naturally. Instead, I mumbled that I had to pee and shuffled to the bathroom at the end of the hall. It sucked having to share such a tiny space with someone as big a bitch as she was, but I had no other options. Moving out just wasn't in the cards for me at the moment and I didn't exactly have any plans to make it happen. 

It’s not like I had a steady job to save up enough for a deposit on my own place. 

I finished in the bathroom and turned the light off before shuffling into the kitchen. By now, Chelsea had moved to the living room and was sitting on the edge of the couch. The television was on with some kind of breaking news story, but I didn’t care. The last thing I wanted was any reminders about what kind of shit went on in this city. Particularly, the person behind most of the recent shit that had happened.

But my roommate hadn’t picked up on my mood quite yet and turned around to face me as I pulled open the door to the fridge. “Are you seeing this?”

I was most definitely _ not _ seeing it since my head was currently ducked into the bright interior of our fridge, trying to find something to eat. With a shake of my head, I grabbed a cup of yogurt and moved to the utensil drawer, kicking the fridge shut with my foot. 

“That Joker guy killed some judge and the police commissioner last night.”

Just the sound of his name had my entire body tensing up so tightly, my fist tightened around the plastic yogurt cup and a glob of it popped out of the lid. It hit the floor at my foot, but I barely noticed. I turned to the television and swallowed at the sight of a still frame image of the Joker, laughing down into a handheld camera. The quality of the image made him blurry, but the wide grin on his face made me shiver as if he were standing in my living room.

Chelsea turned to look at me and I quickly turned back to the task of finding a spoon for my evening breakfast. If she noticed the strange look on my face, she didn’t mention is and I was thankful. “So, like, you saw this guy?”

“Yeah,” I grumbled, snatching a spoon from the drawer before slamming it shut with a bump of my hip. The yogurt didn’t even look appetizing anymore but I felt like I had to occupy my hands and mind with a simple task. Dip the spoon in, put it in my mouth, swallow and repeat. It would be something to concentrate on, something to distract from the screen where his face was _ still _ frozen. 

God, why did the news have to show things like this constantly? It’s like they wanted the whole city to live in a perpetual state of fear for some reason. It was annoying.

“Was he as creepy in real life as he is on TV?”

“Pretty much,” I mumbled into the first bite of yogurt. The taste did nothing for me but the cool temperature on my tongue gave me some relief. Chelsea shook her head and looked back at the screen, leaning forward to put her elbows on her thighs. She was still wearing her work clothes, which was another reminder that I _ had _ to find a job this week. No more lying in bed until five in the evening, no matter what I had been through the night before.

As I dipped the spoon back into the cup, not wanting my thoughts to drift back to what had happened last night, Chelsea sighed. 

“I bet he smelled good.”

The shock made my grip falter and the spoon dropped back into the cup with another splatter of peach flavored yogurt across my hand and pajama pants. “_ What _?” I asked, eyes wide as I stared at her in disbelief.

“I said I bet he was. I mean, look at his face and that makeup. Only someone with mental problems would do that.” She grabbed the remote and tapped the volume button to turn it up and I could only stare after her. What the hell? Was my mind playing tricks on me? Maybe I hadn’t got enough sleep after all. After another moment the story on the Joker of Gotham city wrapped up and I was thankful that his picture was taken off the screen. I looked down into my yogurt cup.

My appetite was definitely gone now.

Chelsea stood up and tossed the remote back onto the couch. “I’m going to take a shower. Greg said the bank his mom works for will be hiring a new teller in the next week or so. You need to take your resume down there soon.” 

I nodded, watching her move around the couch. She plucked the earrings from her ears and pulled her bright, red hair from the clip she had pinned it up with. It was clear that she was done dropping hints about me finding a job. I nodded again and picked up the spoon, hoping I looked as normal as I was trying to appear.

“Yeah, I will. That would be a good job.”

“Put Greg down as your reference,” she called over her shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom. The sound of the faucet turning on, the knobs squeaking as she spun them, and I stared down into my breakfast, fighting the nausea.

It was bad enough that I was smelling scents that weren’t around me, but now I was hearing things as well? Was this a product of some mild form of post-traumatic stress? I mean, sure, I had been scared as hell last night, but I don’t feel traumatized by what had happened. Looking back, I couldn’t even remember much of it at all.

Just bits and pieces that stood out brighter than the rest that all seemed to fade into the fog of my mind. And what did stand out, were the memories I didn’t want to have. 

Frustrated and fed up with my thoughts, I hurried to the kitchen and dumped the yogurt cup into the trash. I hated wasting food, especially since I didn’t have the funds to replace it most of the time, but the thought of trying to eat anything at the moment was just too much for my stomach. I needed to move on from this and focus on how I would be paying the next month’s rent and half of the utilities. 

If I was going to take my resume into the bank and ask for a job, then I was going to have to spruce it up a bit. Sure, lying on your resume was never ideal, but desperate times call for desperate measures and honestly, would anyone ever check to make sure all the facts were...well, facts?

I sat at the desk with Chelsea’s laptop and figured she would only get a little annoyed for me using it. As soon as she saw that I was working on getting a job, she’d shut her mouth. As the computer booted up, I pulled my feet into the chair and chewed on the corner of my thumbnail, a thought popping into my head.

Did I even want to work at a bank? What if _ he _ decided to come in and rob it while I was working? God, what if he recognized me? 

That was ridiculous. He had barely looked at me. He was just trying to intimidate anyone he could find and I happened to be the one who had fallen into his sights. And the thing with my ribbon? 

I shook my head, not wanting to think of him still in possession of something of mine. Even though I had no emotional hold on that particular ribbon, hell it hadn’t even been _ mine _\--it was Chelsea’s, it still felt personal somehow. Like he was out there, in whatever hole he hid in between appearances, with something I had on my body, something I chose to wear and just knowing it was with him now made me feel...strange.

The sound of the water shutting off with another shriek of the knobs made me jump and blink down at the computer screen. I hadn’t even realized I had spaced out for so long. But thinking about it again put me out of the mood to get anything done and before Chelsea could come out of the bathroom, I closed her laptop and hurried into my bedroom. 

My head was still too loopy, still too foggy from everything. I obviously hadn’t gotten enough sleep so that was the only thing I wanted at that moment. My resume and job search would be waiting for me when I woke up in the morning and hopefully these stupid, unrelenting thoughts wouldn’t be. 

* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, no Joker this time but he does make an appearance next chapter ;) It's gonna be a good one, I promise.


	3. Downtown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalie goes for a stroll at the worst possible moment and bumps into someone she had been hoping to avoid. Wonder who it is?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm excited and nervous beyond words to post this chapter! I really, really hope I've done this Joker justice with the characterization. Let me know what you think! Also, extra warnings for violence and assault. There'll be a lot of that in this fic lol

* * *

_I shouldn't be here right now_   
_But you got me figured out_   
_Pushing my pieces round_   
_ I know this game_

* * *

My bedroom floor looked like a cyclone had touched down and tore through my drawers, scattering clothes in its wake. A shirt hung off the knob of my underwear drawer and I frowned down at it. Twenty minutes ago, I had decided against wearing the top on the basis that the color washed my complexion out. I don't even know why I bought the damn thing. Yellow looked terrible on me and even if it was in style at the moment, that didn't mean I could make it work. 

I snatched it off the knob and threw it back in the drawer, moving to the rolling rack I used for my more nicer pieces of clothing. These were what I would wear to job interviews or dates...if I ever had either of those two. It had been seven months since I had lost my job and even longer than that since I actually had a date. Of course, I blamed that on the lack of eligible men in this city but the truth was, I didn't have the energy. 

The men of Gotham required so much attention and pampering of their egos and I just was not into that kind of thing. That begged the question; what was I into? I didn't have an answer for that question. 

My track record of men was an abysmal account of just how low a girl will lower her standards to have a boyfriend. One boyfriend had been the guitarist of an indie band that was always on the verge of being discovered. He had been the tortured artist type and I thought he was the end all be all when I was seventeen. Thank god I grew up and saw him for what he really is; a mopey dude who wanted a groupie instead of a relationship. 

By twenty, I hadn't learned much though and decided to look on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. I dated a "Chad" type for about six months and while he had enough money to spoil me rotten, he also had the attitude and anger problem to ruin our relationship. It was like throwing off a wet blanket the day I dumped him, though he said I would regret it one day. 

And I did. Every time I had to pay rent.

But I didn't want a sugar daddy or to live in the back of a van while my boyfriend toured dive bars for the next ten years. I wanted…

With a sigh, I stared at the rack of clothes and shook my head. I wanted something _ decent _to wear. That's what I truly wanted. What clothes said, "hi, I'm responsible and desperate, please give me a job"?

The only option I had that didn't immediately disgust me was a dress that was three years old. It was a dark blue, almost navy, with a line of tortoise shell buttons down the length of the front. It was sleeveless but I had a decent cardigan that I could pair and make a decent looking outfit with. Not too short, not too low cut, and while I thought it made me look a little too much like a kindergarten teacher to wear on a date, it was good enough to job hunt in. 

I slipped it on and found the gray cardigan, hoping no one would see the missing button on the bottom. I wore it open anyway. After pulling my hair into a ponytail that looked too much like how I had worn it _ that night _, I pulled it down and combed through it with my fingers. It would have to do. 

With my feet in a pair of flats, I moved into the living room to grab the small stack of resumes I had printed off earlier that morning. Chelsea, being the ever responsible and organized woman she was, found me a folder to keep them in and promised me it made me look professional. 

The door to the apartment opened suddenly, making me jump and throw my hand to my chest. Greg smiled as he moved into space and kicked the door shut behind him. He held up a small, red toolbox. "I hear there's a leak in the bathroom."

"Oh, yeah. The faucet on the sink. You scared the shit out of me." I pushed an earring into my ear and scowled at him as he chuckled to himself. 

"Sorry about that. You going on a job hunt?" He pointed to the folder lying on the desk and I sighed with a nod. "Good luck! Be sure to ask for Brenda. That's my mom." 

He moved past the kitchen and headed down the hallway toward the bathroom and I watched him for a moment before taking a deep breath. Might as well get this day over with. I scooped up the folder and grabbed my keys from the bowl on the table before calling back to Greg. "I'll be back later."

"You might want to avoid downtown. That funeral procession is today." 

I was out the door just when his words hit me and I frowned down at the deadbolt before twisting my key into it. What funeral? It took ten blocks for the answer to hit me and I felt monumentally stupid for forgetting that the Gotham City police commissioner had been murdered by the man I was trying very hard to forget about. I had been so focused on the tiny moment he and I shared that I forgot people had lost their lives because of him. And here I was, complaining because he smelled good.

My steps faltered and I tucked my hair behind my ear, glancing back to see what I had tripped over. There was nothing on the sidewalk and I refused to let myself think about that little admission, pushing it down to the depths of my thoughts where other nasty little ideas and musings laid like dust swept beneath a rug. 

The closer I got to downtown, the busier the streets were. It seemed that everyone and their mothers had come out to attend the funeral and everyone that was left was stuck in the traffic on the streets. Horns honked and people craned their heads out the windows to shout at one another, though it did no good to move the cars along. I crossed between a backed-up line of cars and hurried down the sidewalk to the 12th Avenue Trust Bank. 

The doors were heavy, with thick glass and metal frame. I pushed my way into them and made my way through a set of revolving doors just inside. Beyond them, the marble floor stretched down the length of the lobby and a row of ten or fifteen tellers sat behind a sectioned counter. 

There was an office set up down at the other end of the lobby for credit and loan appointments and I looked around for any sign of Greg's mother, Brenda. Was she a teller? A loan officer? Why hadn't I asked him to give me more details about her? 

"Hi, may I help you?" The teller closest to the end smiled brightly to me and I waited for a man to step aside before I took his place.

"Yeah, I'm looking for Brenda Dunn?"

The woman gave me a bright smile and folded her hands together on the counter. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Dunn is in a meeting all afternoon. Can I take a message for her?" 

"Oh," I said, shoulders falling in disappointment. "I'm a friend of her son's and he suggested I bring her my resume in case they're hiring."

"I do know we aren't hiring right now, but we can always take your resume and keep it on file. Would you like me to do that or you can come back tomorrow when Mrs. Dunn is free." 

I opted to leave my resume. It was better that she had it as soon as possible. After she has it, I can just call back for questions about the job. No need to come all the way back down here. The teller took the paper with a smile and though I didn't exactly see her turn to give the paper to Brenda, I hoped she would. 

Once I was back outside among the honking horns and angry shouts, I let out a sigh of annoyance and set off once more. I had passed by a boutique earlier and retail may have been a shit job, I couldn't exactly turn my nose up at anything at the moment. A job was a job. 

The woman behind the boutique counter wasn't as friendly as the teller at the bank, but she took my resume and slid it into a file while I stood there. It didn't make me feel much better about the prospect and I set off once more. I figured I could work my way from the top to the bottom of the job ladder. Put my resume in at banks and nicer clothing stores, and when that didn't produce any results, I'd try grocery stores and chain retailers. And if that didn't work...gas stations and laundromats. Not that there was anything wrong with working those places.

It's just I was already twenty-three. I needed to find something that could be more permanent, more opportunity for me to advance. 

My stomach rumbled after I had dropped my resume off at a department store where a woman older than my grandmother ran the customer service counter. She had taken my resume and promised to put it right on top, but I doubted she would remember me the second I stepped away from her. I was starving and feeling a bit hopeless and with only one more resume to hand out, I decided it was time for a little food. 

And if I didn't feel like going anywhere else, I could always leave it for the restaurant. I had experience waitressing. Surely fast food would be similar. 

I crossed back over onto 11th avenue and hurried along, the grumbling of my stomach pushing me to pick up the pace. There was a slice of greasy, cheese pizza calling my name from several blocks away and if I could just make it around this funeral parade, I could get to it and fill my empty stomach. 

There was no going through the parade route. The police had barricades set up down the entrance to every alley that would cut through it and one of the men, who was quite unfriendly, told me to go around. An extra five blocks. There was no arguing with them and honestly, I should have been a bit more understanding. 

Their fellow police officer, commissioner and possibly their friend had been killed in a brutal way. I turned away with a frown and blamed my attitude on my hunger. I had never been very good at controlling my annoyance on an empty stomach. But it's not like _ I _ was the Joker. Did they honestly suspect me of wanting to cut through the alley to cause trouble? 

I just wanted some pizza.

Through the alleyways, I could see the uniformed policemen standing in procession on the next block and the Mayor’s voice echoed over the microphone. He was giving some speech, calling for a boost of morale from the citizens of Gotham in the face of a terrorist and I was thankful for that. I truly was. But I didn’t exactly believe his words or believe that it would do any good for us. 

The damage had been done and people were running scared. Too bad they weren’t leaving their jobs behind for those of us who couldn’t exactly leave the city. 

The Mayor’s speech came to an end and I glanced down the next alley to see the officers raise their hands in a salute. The next building blocked my view and I turned my thoughts back to pizza. I wondered where I could find a decent Margherita pizza on this side of town that wouldn’t cost me too much money. I was already running low on my rainy day fund as it were. 

A round of shots was fired from the next block over and I listened to the sound echo between the buildings. I hadn’t been expecting it but since no screams or shouting followed it, I figured it was part of the ceremony. Another shot rang out and I came closer to the next alley. Just a few more steps and I’d be able to see the head of the parade. 

But immediately following the next shot, the screaming did break out and I dug my heels into the sidewalk. Had I been hearing things? Horns honked loudly and I spun around to face the way I had come. The police at the barricades were rushing down the alleyways and the screaming grew closer as more shots rang out.

A small crowd jumped the blockade and a man in one of the cars popped his head out the window. “What’s goin’ on?!” He shouted, throwing his hands up.

“Someone shot the mayor!”

Someone…

I wasn’t too stupid to know that someone was more than likely _ him _. 

My pulse raced and I turned back to the direction I had been going. I clutched the folder to my chest and raced down the street, hoping I was far enough away that I could get somewhere safely. I could duck around the corner and find a business that would let me in to hide. Or maybe I should just keep running. 

I didn’t know which was a better choice. Both seemed wrong somehow but all my body could do at that moment was keep going. 

I stepped off a curb and hurried past an alley that would have led right to the end of the funeral procession. And just as I looked to the right to make sure I wouldn’t see anything I didn’t want to see, I slammed right into someone racing toward me. I yelped and stumbled backward but a pair of hands reached out and took hold of my elbows to keep me steady. 

A curtain of dark hair fell in my face and I blew it away, cursing myself for not securing it in a ponytail after all. I quickly blew it out of my eyes and shook my head to clear the rest, intent on telling whoever I had run into that I was sorry. The dark gaze that stared down at me was rimmed in black like they had hastily wiped makeup off and in just a fraction of a second, I concluded that whoever they belonged to was quite handsome.

But the smile that stretched across his lips pulled my eyes downward to his lips and the jagged scars that ran along his cheeks and I felt my stomach drop to the ground. _ Oh, no...No, no, no! _My fight or flight instincts kicked in and I struggled against his hands to no avail. He kept his grip tight and he glanced over my head, eyes darting around the street, before steering me up the avenue. I noticed, with fear gripping my spine, that he was wearing a black, military jacket buttoned up to his throat. The gold stitching and buttons stood out in contrast and I focused on them to try to keep me from passing out. 

“We gotta stop meeting like this, sweetheart,” he said, somewhere between a purr and a growl, and I tried to jerk away from him again. He adjusted his grip and brought be back against his chest, leaning down to press against the side of my head. “What’s everyone going to think, seeing us like this?”

Ahead of us, a van screeched to a halt and I managed to catch the side of the door before it slid open. It was a painting company’s logo on the side and I opened my mouth, hoping that whoever inside was someone intent on being a hero. But the clown mask on the driver’s head quickly shut my mouth and my eyes went wide. 

The Joker dropped one hand from my arm and pushed it against my back, propelling me forward. I stumbled into the van, putting my hands out in front of me to stop my face from smashing against the window and just as I whirled back to face the door, it slid shut. And he was sitting right beside me on the bench seat. 

I scrambled as far away from him as I could get and watched him smack the driver’s seat twice with his palm. The driver peeled away from the curb without any questions as to who I was and I looked from his mask in the rearview mirror to Joker sitting next to me. He wasn’t looking at me, as if I were a ghost that had got caught in the van. 

The driver peeled his mask from his face and took a deep breath, tossing it to the floor with a string of curses under his breath. “Damn thing makes it hard to breathe.”

Hearing him speak must have signaled something in my brain and I opened my mouth before I could stop myself from uttering a sound. “Please let me go.” Neither of them even glanced my way. Had he killed me in the alley without me realizing it? Was I truly a ghost? “I won’t tell anyone, I promise--”

The Joker slowly turned his head toward me and narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t a glare of anger or annoyance. Just a curious, searching stare that immediately made my throat clamp around any word I wanted to say. Oh, why had I even said anything at all? Having him ignore my entire existence was better than him looking at me this way. 

It was too similar to how he had stared at me while reaching up to tug at the ends of the ribbon in my hair. It felt like he was looking through me like his eyes were cutting into me so deep that I couldn’t move or breathe. 

The van screeched to a halt, snapping me out of my daze enough that I was barely able to put my hands out on the seat in front of me to keep from smacking my head on it. The passenger door opened and I blinked up at the sight of a man jumping into the seat. He ran his hands over his hair several times and bounced his leg with erratic, nervous energy that wafted off of him like a bad smell. 

Three against one now. I didn’t like these odds. Especially since I had no idea how to fight. I’d never even so much as slapped someone in my entire life. How was I going to fend off three guys, one being the goddamn _ Joker _?

My eyes darted up to the man who had climbed into the van last and he swung his head around to look at me as well. His eyebrow lifted as he let his gaze slither down the length of my body and I quickly pulled my skirt down to my knees. “Who’s the chick?” He asked with a scoff, abandoning his hair to slide his finger and thumb over the patchy goatee surrounding his mouth. 

Beside me, the Joker was still staring at me and I looked at him, expectedly, as if I were waiting for permission. My cowardice made me sick. 

“He asked your name, sweetheart.” 

I closed my eyes and nodded, taking a deep breath through my nose to try and calm my racing pulse. “N-Natalie.”

When I opened my eyes, I found a scarred smile on the Joker’s face. He turned back to the man in the front and leaned an elbow against his seat. “_ Natalie _,” he said my name, rolling every syllable over his tongue. “Was at the fundraiser for Harvey Dent-ah. She was passing out drinks to Gotham’s elite and wealthy.”

“Yeah? Well, what’s she doing here?” The man in the front asked, holding onto the seat as the van took a sharp left. I slid along the leather seat and couldn’t catch myself in time before my hip met the Joker’s. He didn’t say anything or attempt to move down and I scrambled back against the window.

“I-I don’t--” Again, my words were cut off. The Joker waved his hand to the man and tutted. The man shut his mouth but didn’t turn back around. He simply dropped his eyes and stared down at my skirt, as if he could see through it. I lowered the folder onto my thighs and frowned. 

Joker noticed the folder suddenly and pointed down to it with a tight, forced polite smile. “May I?” He took it from me before I could answer. Not that I would have denied him. At that moment, I could barely breathe through the terror. He flipped the folder open and plucked one of my resumes from the front pocket. “Hmm. Natalie Jacobs. Highly motivated individual seeking employment… what a coincidence,” he turned to me with a grin that exposed his yellow teeth. “We have an opening on our staff.”

  
  
_ What _? I must not have been hearing him right. I knew he was toying with me, just trying to scare me, but I couldn’t process any of this right now. There were no rational, sane thoughts in my head. Just fear and the overwhelming need to get out of this van.

“Oh,” I said quietly, swallowing to clear my throat of the lump that had found its way inside it. “I-I’m flattered but I don’t know if I’m the right fit--” What the fuck was I even saying?

“Have you ever used a gun, _ Natalie _?” Why did he have to say my name like that? No one had ever said it like that, like every single sound of it filled his mouth and he was tasting it. I never wanted to hear it again. I looked up at him as he leaned forward and peeled the coat away from his upper body. “Ever killed anyone?”

He had on a plain, white shirt beneath it though it looked a little worse for wear as if he wore it a lot between washes. There was a faint, pink stain near the collar and I hoped it was the paint from his makeup and not blood. I blinked up at his face, eyes still piercing through me, and shook my head. “No, I’m a pacifist.”

He scoffed with a slight roll of his eyes and reached back to grab something from the waist of his pants. When he pulled out a pistol, my eyes widened. God, he was about to kill me. I might as well make peace with it and try to absolve all my sins. Not that I really cared about all that, but I didn’t know what else to do. 

Joker ran a hand over his hair, still tied back behind his head, and he held the gun out in the palm of his hands for me. I glanced quickly to it and back up into his eyes with a shake of my head. He sighed and snatched me by the wrist, barely batting an eye at my struggle to take my arm out of his grip. The gun met my hand, heavier than I was expecting, and he closed his fingers around mine to make me take it. I blinked up at the man in the passenger seat, finding him still staring at me, still smiling like he could see my body through my clothes and I grimaced. 

“Don’t be nervous,” The Joker soothed closer than I was expecting. He gestured to his face. “Is it the scars?”

“No,” I answered truthfully, eyes darting to the man in the front seat. The scars aren’t what bothered me with the Joker. It was his eyes, and how he seemed to be able to look right into my soul. But at the moment, the man leering at me was what made me flinch. Joker looked at him and jutted his thumb toward the seat.

“He’s making you nervous? Don’t mind him. No one ever taught him any manners.” He turned to face the man and sighed. “Do you mind? I’m in the middle of an interview.”

With a curl of his lip, the guy gave me one more glance over before turning to face the front and I swallowed down a gasp as the Joker turned back to me. “Now, where were we? Oh yes.” He lifted my wrist and the gun with it, closing his other hand around mine. “You were saying something about being a pacifist. No one is a pacifist, by the way. You've either killed someone or haven't had the opportunity yet. Let me show you."

He slid closer to me, his thigh pressing against mine and I glanced down to where our bodies met. I hadn’t expected him to be so...warm. It was almost feverish and for the first time, I noticed how much I was sweating. It collected on the small of my back and between my thighs and I clamped my teeth around my bottom lip as he tilted the tip of the gun up to the ceiling of the van.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. All I could think about was how my life was about to end with a bullet through my head. I wasn’t even the one pulling the trigger, despite my hand holding the gun. But it wasn’t my head the Joker pointed it to. It was _ his _. 

He set the end of the barrel right between his eyebrows and looked up at me through his lashes. I watched, slightly in awe, mostly in terror, as his tongue, so much brighter than I imagined it would be, darted out to lick the sides of his lips. My tongue was dry as I tried to swallow and I quickly looked back up to meet his eyes. 

“Now, you look like a smart girl,” his voice went a bit deeper and I pursed my lips tightly together. “I’m sure you’ve been watching all of my exploits playing endlessly on the news and you’re aware that I’m not a _ nice guy _ . You hold the power to stop all of this in your hands. No more people will die if you just pull...the... _ trigger. _”

I could feel my eyes widen but all rational thoughts flew right out of my head. Was he being serious? There was no way. He wouldn’t put that kind of power in my hands, even if he was trying to prove a point to me about being a pacifist. There was some kind of catch. There always was when it came to him. I had seen enough about him on the news to know that.

The cool metal and plastic of the window pressed into my back as he shifted in the seat, leaning closer to me. His fingers adjusted around mine and I noticed the length of his fingernails. Definitely long enough to scratch me. The thought made me tremble harder for some reason. 

The van rolled over a bump and I gasped, taking my finger quickly away from the trigger just in case it was sensitive enough to fire at such a small touch. As fucked up as it was, I didn’t want to kill him. Not because I thought he didn’t deserve to die but because _ I _ shouldn’t be the one to do this. It wasn’t supposed to be me. It was supposed to be the police, or Batman, or someone better. 

I was just me. 

Why did this fall to me?

After a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, he seemed to realize that I wasn’t going to do it. I didn’t fall into whatever trap he had laid for me. With a sigh, he sat up and wrenched the gun out of my hands and once his touch left my body, it was like a switch had been thrown.

With time still moving slowly, my eyes cut to the two men in the front seat. They were concentrating on the road ahead of them and with a quick glance, the Joker was occupied with slipping his gun back into the waist of his pants. My body moved before I could second guess myself and I launched myself across the van, over his lap and my hand grabbed the handle of the door. I could hear the folder and my last remaining resume fall to the floor. 

Even if I couldn’t escape, maybe I could open the door and scream for someone to help me. At the very least, maybe they would remember my face and tell the police that I was kidnapped and probably dead. That way my family wouldn’t be left wondering. 

But while my hand grabbed the handle of the door and wrenched it back, the lock was firmly in place, preventing it from opening. A sob at the back of my throat quickly turned into a scream as a pair of arms circled around my waist and hauled me back up. I didn’t find the seat beneath me again. This time, it was something worse.

My back pressed into the Joker’s chest and he wrapped one arm around my neck as the other looped around my arm and held it back far enough to make pain shoot through my shoulder. That was enough to scare the piss out of me. The knife at my throat, however, nearly made me faint. Dizziness swam through my head as the blade pressed against my skin and I had no choice but to lean my head back against his shoulder to relieve some of the pressure. 

At my ear, I could feel his warm breath and it made me shut my eyes tightly. “You know, I almost thought you wouldn’t try to fight at all. I’m glad you changed your mind.” His laugh made my skin crawl and I winced away from him. “It’s a shame you couldn’t pull the trigger. Could’ve saved a lot of lives. I suppose not everyone can handle that kind of_ power _ ,” he whispered into my ear, making all of the struggle in me suddenly stop. The tip of the blade pushed upward into my jaw and I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood. “Or maybe you just prefer _ someone else _ to have it all. Hmm? Is that it?”

In the rearview mirror, I caught the stare of the driver and whimpered. He didn’t look at me with sympathy or even pity. It was nothing but a passing glance as if this was another Friday afternoon for him. And next to him in the passenger seat, the other one was back to staring at me. His eyes were on my lap once more, looking right up the front of my skirt that had become bunched around my thighs.

I clenched my legs shut tight and the sudden movement pushed my ass down into the lap I was sitting on. My eyes widened and my hands froze around the Joker’s wrist. He was..._ hard _.

Terrifying thoughts of rape sprung to my mind, nearly clouding my vision with horror, but I didn’t have time to focus on it because he shifted beneath me and I could feel him even more now. My mouth opened to gasp, but I could find no air to suck in. Still gripping the handle of the knife at my throat, he reached up and took my chin in his fingers, turning my head to the side. I kept my eyes shut, not wanting to look at him, knowing that what he was doing, this game of intimidation was turning him on. 

“Open your eyes,” he snapped, making me flinch. “Look at me.” The harshness of his demand scared me more than looking at him and I slowly opened my eyes. His breath came out in warm puffs across my face and he stroked his thumb down the side of my cheek, scraping my skin with the edge of his fingernail. I could practically feel his gaze moving across my face but I was too distracted by the quick flick of his tongue. When he spoke, my entire body shivered against his. “Ah, that’s _ exactly _ what it is.”

The tone of his voice made all the fight and struggle inside me fade away and for the first time since meeting him, I relaxed. His arm loosened around my elbow and the ache in my shoulder remained, but I could at least move it now. He reached up and pushed my hair from my face with the free fingers of his hand, the rest still gripped around the knife. 

For a moment, just a quick, single beat of my heart, him staring into my eyes and finding whatever it is that he thought he had found, I thought he might kiss me. Anyone normal would have at that moment, suddenly spiked with so much tension that it sucked the breath right out of my lungs. Then again, anyone normal wouldn’t have thrown me in the back of a van, put a gun in my hands, and held a knife to my throat.

My lips parted and again, I glanced down to his mouth, watching his tongue dart out and back in between his lips. He made a sound, something between a groan and a hum deep within his throat and the next thing I knew, I was back on the seat, nearly toppling over. He had dropped me as quickly as he had grabbed me and I looked up to see him tap the driver’s seat the same way he had when I got in the van. 

The tires came to a quick stop with a slight shriek of the rubber on the pavement and I shrank back as the Joker reached across my body. A part of me thought he was grabbing me again, but I blinked in surprise when he took the door handle and wrenched it open with a slight grunt. 

His hand was at my back, practically shoving me out of the van and I stumbled forward on trembling, wobbly legs. I spun back around in confusion and stared at him, pulling the edge of my cardigan back up around my shoulders as he dumped my purse out on the ground. Joker offered me a quick, sly grin and tilted his head to the side. He braced one hand against the frame of the door while the other still had a hold of the handle. 

“Well, _ Natalie _ \--” It made me shiver again and I hugged my arms around my waist. “It was nice to meet you. We’ll call you if you’re the right fit for our... _ organization _.”

And with that, the door slid shut once more and the van took off down the street. I followed it with my eyes, too stunned, too traumatized to do much else. It turned a corner and disappeared around a warehouse taking up the block. In the seconds after they drove away, abandoning me in a part of town I had never seen before, I could only focus on one thing; breathing.

Deep breaths in, slow breaths out. I had to repeat it several times, concentrating on nothing but the air coming into my lungs and slowly leaving through my nose. It helped calm my pulse but the adrenaline was rapidly fading and it’s absence left me trembling from head to toe. I had no idea my scalp could even shake like this, but it was. 

I felt as if they had hit me with the van, backed up, and ran me over again. Every muscle was tense and sore and I could barely keep myself standing on my feet. I wanted to scream, wanted to cry and ask the gods why, why me? I couldn’t though. 

What I did manage to do was reach down for my purse and pull out my cell phone. Why hadn’t I even tried to grab it when I was in the van? For years, I had listened to my parents warn me about being out late at night in the city, and to never _ ever _ get into a car with someone I didn’t know. They drilled it into my head what to do in case I was abducted or attacked and all of that advice had flown right out of my head the moment I looked up into that pair of dark eyes.

He had caught me completely off guard and seeing him there, towering over me with his hair pulled back and without makeup had been such a shock. One that I was still trying to process, one that was making me react in ways I never dreamed I would. 

Somehow, my fingers had found the number to the nearest cab company and I stared down at the screen as it displayed the call. A moment later, a bored sounding voice answered and I could barely think to put the stupid thing up to my ear. 

“Hello? Gotham City Taxi Company,” he repeated, making me lift the phone to my ear to speak. 

“I-I need a cab.”

“What address?”

I turned and looked up at the warehouse behind me. It didn’t have a name that I could see but on the corner, I spotted the street names. I told the dispatcher where to find me and he hung up after a promise that the cab would be here in about fifteen minutes. I didn’t want to be alone for fifteen minutes. Not here, not exactly where he had left me. My eyes kept darting to the corner he had disappeared around, expecting that white van to pull back around and finish what they had started.

Nothing happened, which scared me just as much. Why? Why did he do any of this? Why me? 

When the taxi pulled up to the curb, I almost wanted to tell it to go on, that I didn’t want to get in just in case it was another one of his tricks. But the older gentleman behind the wheel looked at me, then to the street and rolled his window down. “Hey, you alright?” He asked with concern evident in his voice.

My shoulders relaxed...not much, but just enough and I swallowed with a nod. “Yeah,” I croaked, reaching up to put a hand to my throat. My finger pressed into a tender spot and I flinched. Had he cut me with the knife after all? 

I climbed into the back of the cab and sat on the seat, wishing it hadn’t been leather. It felt too similar to the seat in the back of that van. The driver turned and looked me over once more, obviously not believing my lie. “You sure? You look like you might need to see a doctor.”

Was I pale? I felt pale. I didn’t need a doctor though. I needed to go to the police station to report this and give them everything I knew, which was...nothing that they didn’t already know. I could give them the name of the painting company on the side of the van but whoever it had originally belonged to was probably long gone, bought by the Joker, or dead. 

As I shifted on the seat and pulled my skirt down as far as it would go to my knees, I frowned and finally noticed that the dampness between my legs that I had shrugged off as sweat felt a bit different. I knew it wasn’t my period...which left only one other thing and I refused to acknowledge that possibility entirely.

“No,” I finally said with a shake of my head. “I just want to go home.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the kudos and comments! :D


	4. Aces Up His Sleeve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the kudos and comments! I appreciate each and every one of them!

* * *

_Are there some aces up your sleeve?_   
_Have you no idea that you're in deep?_   
_I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week_   
_How many secrets can you keep?_

* * *

It was strange that after the Bruce Wayne party, I had been so exhausted that sleeping an entire day away hadn’t felt like enough. Nothing had even happened to me aside from having a psychopath pull my ribbon out of my hair and yet, it had drained me emotionally and physically. But being thrown in the back of a van, tormented by that same psychopath, made to fear for my life, hadn’t exhausted me in the slightest.

If anything, I felt wound up, too nervous or too scared to sleep. I didn’t know which. All I knew was that after tossing and turning for three hours the night before, I had given up on the thought of sleep and decided to clean _ everything _. 

It was long overdue. My drawers were stuffed with clothes I had been holding onto since high school and there were still boxes beneath my bed that I hadn’t yet unpacked from moving in last year. The sun wasn’t even up when I got started with the clutter beneath the bed but by dawn, I had cleared most of it out. 

It took two garbage bags, stuffed with a ton of things to give away to goodwill and I felt better to be rid of it. Like I was shedding the skin I had been holding onto for far too long. Next came the dust that had been gathering at the baseboards and after that, I organized all of my shelves and books. 

A little part of me was aware that I was doing this so I wouldn’t have to think about what had happened and I was alright with that. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to remember the way he had looked down at me in that alley, the dark of his eyes piercing through me and how for just a fraction of a second, I had found him to be handsome.

No.

I wasn’t going to think about it. 

Not when I could be busy doing something productive. By the time Chelsea was getting ready to leave for work at 8 that morning, I had moved out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. We kept things relatively clean, but wiping out the fridge and freezer or organizing our cabinets had never been a top priority. Until today.

“What’s gotten into you?” She asked, slipping her feet into her heels as I dumped the two garbage bags on the living room floor. 

“I just feel like cleaning. It’s overdue anyway.” I ignored the look she was giving me and passed her to move into the kitchen. At the fridge, I ducked my head down to peer into the shelves and sighed. “Is there anything you’re sentimental about? I’m tossing anything out of date.”

“No, that’s fine. Just don’t clean my room.” She called over her shoulder and headed to the front door. “I’ll bring some takeout home tonight. Greg’s coming over so--” She waved her hand toward my clothes and I glanced down to my t-shirt and shorts. “--put some more clothes on.”

Without waiting for my response, she let the door shut behind her and I blinked at the spot she had been standing. I should have stormed to the door and shouted down to her that it was _ her boyfriend _ who had walked in on me in the shower. He was the one who stared when I wore what was comfortable for me. 

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the fridge, taking a seat on the floor in front of it before grabbing the first container. It was some fad, vegan butter that she’d bought a few weeks ago, swearing it was just as good as the real thing. It had sucked and without even checking the date, I tossed it into an open trash bag beside me. 

It took an hour to get the fridge really clean. And I could have stopped after tossing the outdated things and wiping down, but I couldn't let my mind drift for one single second. Each time I slowed down to take a break or just close my eyes for a second longer than a blink, there he was. His smiling face, the press of him beneath me, his hands curling around mine as I held that gun. It was all there behind my eyelids, replaying over and over any time I stopped to rest. 

So I didn't. I kept going, taking all the drawers and shelves out, wiping up every spill or drop that had sat for too long in the fridge. The freezer got the same treatment and after I was done, it looked brand new. There was no time to stop and admire my work. The rest of the kitchen needed to be done and I spared no dusty corner.

It was four in the afternoon when I stood up from scrubbing the bathtub and stared down at my work. I had conquered my bedroom, kitchen, living room and now the bathroom was finished. Peeling the gloves from my hand, I tossed them beneath the sink and washed the cleaner off my hands.

The faucet was leaking still, despite Greg's attempt at fixing it and I figured, if all else fails, that could be my next project to keep these thoughts out of my head. I gathered my supplies and put them back where they belonged and once I was back in the living room, I sat down in front of the small entertainment center holding our tv.

I busied myself with organizing our DVD collection and CDs but twice, I stopped to read the description on the back of two of the movie cases. It was a mistake. A flash of the Joker's laugh fluttered through my head, making me flinch and the second time, I could _ almost feel _ his hand on my face again, forcing me to look at him. And his voice, so deep and gravely that it was unsettling even now echoed through my head. 

_ Open your eyes… look at me. _

I could still hear it just as clearly as I had while sitting on his lap. With a sigh of frustration, I threw the DVD case back onto the shelf and cursed at myself for letting my thoughts drift. I had been so good up until now. Why was I letting him get back in my head? 

From my bedroom, a shrill ringing made me lift my head and I hurried to find my cellphone where I'd left it. The screen lit up with Abby's number and I almost let it go to voicemail. If she was calling to talk about that night, I would hang up on her. 

"Hello?" I asked after a moment's hesitation.

"Who needs money?" The sing-song tone of her voice made me laugh and it felt good to do it. "Because I got a job for you."

"More catering?" 

Abby sighed. "Well, yeah. It's nothing glamorous so we don't have to worry about shotgun-toting clowns or anything." My teeth gnashed together at the mention of clowns but I didn't hang up. I needed the money after all. "It's some science convention this weekend. Two days so the pay is going to be worth it. Oh, and it's buffet style so we get paid to stand there."

"This weekend?" Not like I had plans. I never had plans. With a glance around the apartment, I realized I should have probably kept some cleaning to do tomorrow or the next day. There was nothing left to distract myself. "Okay, I'm in." 

"Good. I really didn't want to have to call Rebecca. She thinks she can just stand there and get paid while everyone else works. You're much more fun!"

I laughed and reached up to scratch my eyebrow. It was nice hearing Abby joke around and try to be her normal self. Then again, she didn't exactly go through what I had dealt with the day before. It made me wonder if she had been in that alley yesterday, would he have recognized her and thrown her in the back of the van? Would he have teased her and forced her into his lap? 

Something bizarre swelled through me and I swallowed tightly. Was I actually _ jealous _?

"Nat? You still there?"

"Y-yeah! Sorry. I was just lost in thought. What should I wear?" 

"It's the usual uniform this time. I'll pick you up at your place Saturday morning and bring you an extra shirt." She didn't seem to notice my sudden bout of strangeness and I decided it was probably a good idea to ignore it as well. Trying to figure out what the hell I had been thinking was going to be too much for me at the moment. 

We said our goodbyes after agreeing to meet up at 9 on Saturday and by the time I hung up, the key was twisting in the deadbolt. Shit. Chelsea and Greg were home already and I was still wearing my shorts and t-shirt. I quickly shut my door just as they came in and sighed. 

It wasn't like I cared what she thought. I really didn't. But I didn't exactly like Greg gawking at me either and if he couldn't keep his eyes away from my body parts, then I'd have to cover myself up. Or I could smack him in the head, but Chelsea would more than likely kick me out of her apartment if I did that. I wasn't trying to be homeless any time soon. 

So for the time being, I had to comply with her wishes. I pulled on a pair of pajama pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt, despite the rising temperatures outside. I felt better in it anyway; hidden, not so vulnerable. 

When I strolled back into the living room, Greg was at the table, lifting boxes of takeout from a plastic bag. He lifted his head and looked at me with a smile. “Just in time,” he commented and I didn’t let him see me wrinkle my nose at their food.

They never considered my preferences when ordering takeout and didn’t exactly expect them to this time. But I was starving and the smell of fried rice and steamed veggies was making my stomach growl in protest. With Chelsea changing out of her work clothes in the bedroom, I snuck a bite of broccoli. The sound of a snicker made me look up, holding my hand in front of my mouth while I chewed.

Greg shook his head as he opened a pack of soy sauce and dumped it over his rice. “She doesn’t mind if you eat with us.”

“Yeah, right,” I mumbled around the bite of broccoli. “I’m already a burden without having a job and all, but eating your food without paying? No thanks.”

He shrugged and took a seat at the small, round table in the kitchen, not offering me any more of their food. I leaned against the counter and only momentarily regretted not taking him up on it. It seemed that another peanut butter and banana sandwich was in store for me for dinner, even though it’s exactly what I’d had for lunch. 

Chelsea blew out a sigh before shutting her bedroom door behind her. She didn’t smile at me or even look my way but that wasn’t exactly rare. She usually treated me like a minor inconvenience and I looked around the apartment, wondering if she even noticed the effort I had put into cleaning it up. 

“Oh,” Greg said, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “Mom looked at your resume today. They won’t be hiring until the end of the month, but I think you’ve got a good chance. They actually need a good worker…”

His voice kept going but I could hear nothing but the sound of my own heart pounding in my ears. I could see myself in my memory, handing the bank teller my resume, handing it to the woman at the boutique and then at the department store. Each time I had handed it to someone, I had looked down at my name at the top, center of the page…with my address typed out beneath it. And now _ he _ had a copy.

My hand was trembling as it came to my mouth and I could feel tears start to burn at the back of my eyes. How could I have been so stupid? Why hadn’t I thought of it before? I had been so busy trying _ not _ to think, trying not to remember any details about yesterday that I completely forgot the one thing that could potentially risk my life.

Ignoring the looks from my roommate and her boyfriend at the table, I turned to stare at the door. The deadbolt was in place and the knob was locked as well, but that wouldn’t stop him. If he wanted to find me, he’d have no problem kicking down the door. But why would he even want to? 

I was nothing to him. Just a momentary plaything, caught in the heat of the moment at the wrong place and wrong time. I had nothing to offer him.

“Nat?” Greg asked, setting his chopsticks down on the edge of his plate. I looked at him and then to Chelsea who had a bite of chicken positioned right at her mouth. They were both staring at me as if I had just grown a second head. “You okay?”

They deserved to know. If it were the other way around, I’d want to know that there was a possibility that a psychotic terrorist clown could burst into our apartment at any moment. But what would they think? What would they say to me or do? They would kick me out, or possibly move out and leave me behind. 

When I found my voice, it was barely a whisper and I cleared my throat. “Y-yeah. I think the bleach fumes got to me.” I needed to get away from them and their confused stares. I couldn’t think when they looked at me like that. “I need to take a shower.”

I was in the bathroom before Chelsea could even take a bite of her sesame chicken, back pressed against the robe hanging on the back of the door and breath coming out in quick, shallow puffs that left my lungs aching. I was panicking, dizzy and light-headed. I needed something to distract myself.

The shower turned on with a loud shriek of the metal knob and I twisted it to the hottest setting, needing the steam to fill the room. My head was filled with images of him breaking down the front door, or his goons coming to snatch me from my bedroom to bring me back to him and my stomach lurched. I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet and threw up the peanut butter and banana sandwich I had eaten for lunch. 

It didn’t help my nausea and I reached up with a shaking hand to flush the toilet, hoping no one had heard me throwing up. There was only so much I could blame on bleach fumes. With a groan that I tried to keep as quiet as possible, I sat back on the fuzzy rug beneath me and swiped the back of my hand across my mouth. 

With a glance to the door, I swallowed the taste of bile on the back of my tongue. I couldn’t tell them. They would take me to the police and get me deeper into this nightmare than I already was. There was no guarantee that he would even seek me out again anyway. He’d had his fun with me. What point would there be to coming back for more?

It was a lie I was telling myself, a lie that I would cling to and clutch like a lifeboat on an endless sea. 

.

.

I had suggested, a day later, when Chelsea was on the phone with Greg, that we get a gun for protection. She thought I was being ridiculous. What did any of those criminals want with either of us? They were going after the people who mattered most to the city, not two, random women who meant nothing. 

Greg assured her that with him being there most of the time, there was no need for a gun, that he would protect us. It had been an attempt to make the conversation light-hearted but all I could think about was how easily the Joker would slaughter Greg if given the chance. The subject was dropped with Chelsea turning back around to face the television and her conversation picked back up with her boyfriend about his sick aunt. 

If I couldn’t have a gun, then I would keep the next best thing on me at all times. At least when I was in the house. I knew exactly where I had organized the knives in our kitchen, and knew exactly which one was the biggest and sharpest. I kept it under my mattress for the next two days, right beneath my head so that I could grab it at the first sign of an intruder breaking into the apartment. Maybe they would come to my room first and I could fend them off before they got to Chelsea.

It was safe to say that by Saturday, I was exhausted from the lack of sleep. I had tossed and turned every night and when I did sleep, my dreams were so bizarre and alarming that they woke me up with a gasp and kept me awake. 

And I knew the exhaustion was written on my face the moment I opened the door to Abby’s face blinking at me in surprise. She took one look at me and winced. “Damn, Jacobs. You feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, stepping out into the hallway with a bag of clothes hanging from my shoulder. With a twist of my key in the deadbolt, I turned back around and forced a smile. “I just haven’t been sleeping very well.”

She nodded her head and I could see by the look in her eyes that she understood and maybe she was experiencing the same sleepless nights. If she was, she didn’t mention it. We turned to make our way down the stairs and out to the taxi waiting for us. I didn’t even want to think about the price of the fare after this trip. 

The convention was right outside the city and would take at least half an hour to get there, not to mention the trip back. There goes the last of my rainy day fund. Hopefully, I would be able to take Greg up on his offer to share takeout with me, even if Chelsea would disapprove. 

As we climbed into the back of the cab, Abby handed me a bundle of black material and I straightened it out to see a button-up shirt. I groaned. “Don’t tell me it’s too small for me.”

“It should fit this time, but I brought a safety pin, just in case.”

I changed in the cab, not even caring about whether or not the driver could see me in just my bra from the rearview mirror. Abby didn’t seem to mind. She opened her compact and dabbed a bit of powder over a blemish on her cheek with a sigh. I quickly buttoned the shirt up to my chest, ignoring the little voice in the back of my head reminding me about cleavage, and was pleased to find that there were no gaps made by my chest. 

I pulled my hair out of the collar and sat back against the seat, eyeing the makeup she was pulling out of her bag. At least I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t prepared for the day. 

It took about an hour to get to the convention center thanks to all the traffic on the bridges. It seemed that more and more people were abandoning the city in the face of the Joker's threats and antics. More than once the idea of going back to my parent's house crossed my mind. At least until this nightmare was over. 

The Joker couldn't keep this up forever. Eventually, he was going to piss Batman off enough that he'd put a stop to it once and for all. At least, that's what I and the majority of Gotham citizens were hoping for. 

Abby and I were immediately given tasks upon entering the convention center and since we showed up a few minutes late, Brad had saved us the honor of carting trays of food back and forth from the kitchen to the banquet hall. It wasn't like the Wayne fundraiser. These weren't petite little hors d'oeuvres arranged prettily on a platter. This was enormous, buffet style trays full of piping hot food to be served in the next hour or so. 

My arms had acquired quite a few burn marks after just the first few trips from the kitchen to the banquet hall and by the time we had finished, Brad sent us right back out to serve the food. Abby stood at one end of the long buffet and I was at the other, ready to scoop vegetables onto plates for the many people in attendance. 

Most of them had white coats on and I assumed those were the doctors, separating them from the regular folks in suits and ties. The reporters were in normal clothes and took their time snapping photos and grabbing quick interviews while a line formed for lunch. I did my job with a polite smile and hoped my exhaustion didn't read clear on my face. 

It was bad enough that Joker was infiltrating my sleep, but now I had to worry about how awful I looked while doing my job because of him? Why hadn't I just stayed home? Why did I have to go out _ that _ day and at _ that _time? I was always making the wrong choices, always doing the wrong thing. I hid a yawn behind my arm and glanced up the buffet line to Abby.

She was bright and bubbly like always, making friendly conversation with the people in front of her. I was jealous of her attitude. If only I could have slept a decent night's sleep just once the past few days without worrying about a terrorist clown man coming into my bedroom to torment me. Just the thought of it made the fear and panic start to bubble beneath the surface and my eyes darted around the room. I was paranoid, _ beyond _paranoid actually. What if he was here, planning an attack for God only knows why? 

"I know that face," a feminine voice said to my left, nearly making me drop the serving spoon in my hand. It belonged to a woman who was a few inches taller than me, wearing a white lab coat. Her hair was a fiery red and piled into a bun of messy curls on top of her head. She was strikingly beautiful and I couldn't help staring at her for a moment while she smiled at me. 

Finally, I found my voice. "I'm sorry, do we know each other?" 

The woman shook her head with a laugh. "No, but I recognize the look on your face. Trouble with a boyfriend?"

Heat flared up the sides of my face and I ducked my head, looking down at the vegetable casserole I was serving. It shouldn’t have made me react like this like I was a twelve-year-old whose crush was just revealed to everyone. I quickly shook my head and cleared my throat.

“Ah, so no boyfriend,” the woman said, holding her plate out for a small helping of the casserole. “Girlfriend?”

“Oh, no. I’m not..._ He’s _ not my boyfriend. He’s just…” A psychopath, a terrorist, evil, insane, possibly trying to kill me--

“Toying with you?”

Her words made me blink at her. I wondered how she could be so astute. Sure, he wasn’t my boyfriend, thank _ god _, but apparently my feelings about the situation had been written clearly across my face for anyone to see. Maybe I was just that transparent. As she sidestepped down the buffet line, she brought her finger to her nose and tapped it twice to indicate she understood though I didn’t confirm her suspicions. 

“They’ll get in your head if you let them,” she said with a smile that didn’t make me feel any better. “Boys aren’t worth all that anguish.”  
  


Before I could respond a man stepped up to her and put a hand to her shoulder. “Dr. Isley, I’ve been meaning to find you to chat.”

“Great,” she said with a tight forced smile. She gave a glance back at me and rolled her eyes playfully as if her previous statement to me was relevant as ever. With a wink, she turned back around and followed the man down to where the drinks were being poured and I was left to serve the next person stepping up. 

Even after she was gone, I couldn’t help repeating her words in my head. Boys definitely could get in your head, but this was no ordinary boy. If he were, I’d have dumped his ass by now and moved on. But how can I move on when twice now, he’d popped up into my life and left me feeling violated and stripped and vulnerable? I’d only spent half an hour in his presence at most and he had me terrified and paranoid.

I just had to hold onto the hope that he would forget about me and that my resume was still lying on the floor of that van, trampled and forgotten. 

By midnight, I was exhausted, starving, and still feeling as if every few minutes I had to look over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being followed. Abby didn’t join me for the cab ride home, unfortunately, but I was able to take a plate of food home. The entire drive back into the city, I had been stealing little bites of roll and couldn’t wait to get back inside and heat up my leftovers. 

After paying the driver, I hurried up the front steps and gave a good look around the main floor of the building. There were no shadows lurking beneath the stairs and though I had a heavy plate of food in my hand, I kept my keys between my fingers of my other hand. If anyone tried to sneak up on me, I’d at least be prepared to stab them with keys.

But there was nothing waiting to reach out and snatch me. The apartment was quiet when I got in and I sighed and stared into the darkness. I had forgotten that Chelsea stayed with Greg on the weekends and I almost wanted to call Abby and ask her to come stay the night. She lived a bit far away and we both had to get up early for the next day of the convention.

There was no way to avoid it. I would be alone tonight. 

I dropped my purse onto the table and kicked the door shut behind me, hurrying to the kitchen drawer to grab the quickest knife I could. With it gripped tightly in my hand, I went through the apartment, turning on the lights in each room and checking closets, under the beds, and behind the shower curtain. 

If he was in here, he was hiding well. And I was much too hungry to keep searching. After I kicked my pants off and shed my button-up shirt, I strolled back into the kitchen in just my panties and camisole. I didn’t abandon the knife, even after pulling my food from the microwave and taking a seat in front of the television. 

I avoided the news stations. No point in freaking myself out with stories about what Joker’s done this time. Then again, it might help me put my mind at ease knowing he was out there, not thinking a single thought about me. 

Instead, I settled on late night cartoons, something mindless that I didn’t have to focus on while I ate. The food was a bit bland, but I ate it as if it were the most delicious thing I’d ever had in my life. Hopefully tomorrow, I could snag a few more plates and wouldn’t have to spend any of the money I made on groceries. 

With my stomach nice and full, I laid on the couch for another hour and channel surfed. It helped take my mind off of things and while I kept my knife as close as I safely could, I still wasn’t ready to sleep. Even with the idea of waking up early to get ready. And though I wasn’t ready for sleep, my body was.

My eyelids drooped and I had to stifle the hundredth yawn into the cushion before I succumbed to the idea and decided to move to the bedroom. I wedged a kitchen chair beneath the front door that might hopefully stop an intruder, and armed with my knife, I shuffled into my bedroom. The mound of pillows and blankets was calling my name and I wedged the weapon beneath my mattress with the other before collapsing onto the bed. 

I reached over to the alarm clock sitting on my nightstand and pulled it toward me, not wanting to even lift my head to see the time. But before I could set the alarm to go off at 7 the next morning, my fingers brushed against a slick piece of paper and I peeked out from behind my eyelid.

Just beyond my hand, sitting propped against my lamp was a bright red ribbon tied into a neat little bow. My entire body froze and I stared at it with no air entering or leaving my lungs. It hadn’t been there before I left. In fact, I had no other red ribbon and after Chelsea’s had been taken, I was pretty damn sure she didn’t own any more either. 

Slowly, I rose up from the pillow and could see beyond the black box of my alarm clock. The ribbon was tied around a single playing card; a Joker playing card. The sight of it made the food I had eaten threaten to come back up and I quickly clamped a hand over my mouth to stop it.

I didn’t dare pick it up. Just seeing it was enough to terrify me. But it was hard to ignore the haphazardly typed words on the front. 

_ One for me _

_ One for you _

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and always, let me know what you think! I promise Joker makes his appearance next chapter :)


	5. Falling Into the Trap

* * *

_But I think I got the devil hiding in the driver's seat_   
_He's staring at me like I'm good enough to eat_

* * *

  
  
  


This wasn't happening. This was _ not _ happening. There was no way this was real. I must have fallen asleep on the couch and was experiencing a hyper-realistic nightmare. Because if this was real, if somehow, _ he _ had been in my house, in my _ bedroom _, then I was going to pass out and possibly die of fright. 

I had never experienced terror like this. It gripped me by the spine with icy fingers and refused to let me go, refused to let me just breathe. And so, for far too long I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at that horrible little playing card like it was a sign from the devil himself. In a way, I suppose it actually was. Because he certainly wasn't human. 

He was a demon.

Wicked and hateful and terrifying and he had been in my home, leaving it tainted and wrong. Even the clothes I was wearing felt different. I wanted to strip them off my body, strip my sheets from the bed and burn everything he might have touched. 

But I couldn't. All I could do was sit there and stare at the words he had typed on the front of that card. I wasn't sure how much time had passed, even with my alarm clock sitting beside it displaying the time in glowing green numbers, because all of my thoughts were on the fact that he had _ been in my room _. God, just thinking about him possibly going through my things, walking through my room, peeking into my drawers...it was enough to make me finally turn away from the card.

I put a hand to my mouth, shut my eyes tight to fight back the urge to throw up and stood to pace the length of the floor beside my bed. I had to go to the police. There was no avoiding it anymore. I should have gone the day he had forced me into that van. I should have told Chelsea and Greg and figured something out because now…now I was alone and had no idea what to do. 

A groan rose up into my throat and I let it out with a sob, lifting my hands to comb them through my hair. I didn't know what to do, but I knew I had to take this down to the police station and see what they could do about it. At the very least, maybe there were fingerprints or something to give them a clue as to who the hell he is and where he came from. 

Aside from the pits of hell. 

I dressed quickly, throwing on a t-shirt over my camisole and stepping into a pair of gym shorts. I snatched my zip-up jacket from the hook behind the door and slipped my arms through it, trying to glance around the floor for my other sneaker. It was hiding behind the door and I pushed my foot into it before turning back to face the bedside table. Right where I’d left it, too afraid to even touch it, was the ribbon and card. 

God, I could barely look at it. How was I supposed to pick it up and carry it with me? How was I supposed to put it in my pocket and know something he had touched and left for me was so close to my body. I couldn’t. I spun on my heel and hurried to the kitchen while dialing the number to the cab company. With one ride to the police station and back, I would be officially broke, but this was imperative. I had to turn this in and get help. 

As the dispatcher picked up the phone, I told them my address and grabbed a sandwich bag from one of the cabinets. It felt safer to put it in something rather than just carry it in my pocket. Besides, I didn’t want to even touch it. I ended the call and hurried back into the bedroom, using the plastic Ziploc bag to wiggle the card and ribbon into it. I sealed it and shoved it into the pocket of my jacket.

It would take a while for the cab to pull up and my body refused to sit still. Anywhere I touched felt wrong, like it could have been touched by him and if I brushed against it, it would be like I touched him. My fingers shook as I reached up and pulled my hair into a ponytail. For some reason, I was shaking as if I were cold but every inch of skin on my body felt flushed and warm. 

There was a ton of nervous energy sinking into my fingertips and toes, catching at my joints and leaving me jumpy and fidgety. A strand of hair fell from my ponytail and brushed against my cheek and I jumped, convincing myself it was a finger reaching out to brush my face. When I whirled around, there was no one there. No one but me.

I was alone in an apartment that he had invaded and the walls were closing in on me. Ignoring the wave of shivers down my spine, I crossed to the window and pulled the curtain to the side to peer down to the street. No cabs, no headlights turning the corner, nothing but the cars parked on the curb. It wasn’t too hard to believe. It was close to three in the morning. 

Even in a city like Gotham, with seemingly never-ending night life, no one in their right mind would be out this late. Not when the _ Joker _ was terrorizing the city. 

My fingers curled around the fabric of the curtain and I had to resist the need to reach into my pocket, pull out the card and rip it to pieces. I wish I could be that brave. I wish I could toss it in the trash and prove to him that he didn’t scare me, that I wouldn’t allow him to bully me into terror like this. 

But I couldn’t.

I wasn’t some heroine from a story who stood up to her cruel attacker and saved herself. I was the girl who had a mild fear of horses thanks to a particularly bad experience at summer camp in middle school. I was the girl who was too nervous to call and make my own doctor appointments. And for some reason, now I was the target of a man that scared me so badly, my entire body felt as if it were paralyzed. I wish I could be that heroine, but I’m not.

A horn honked outside on the street and I leaped an entire inch off the floor, my hands flying to clutch at my chest. It was a perfect example of my previous observations about myself and I tried not to let it bother me as I spun on my heel and raced out the door. I paused to lock the deadbolt, though what was the point? The one person I was afraid of didn’t exactly need a key to break in.

The proof of that was sitting in a plastic sandwich bag in my pocket. 

I ran out the front door of the building and down the steps to the cab. Metal music poured out of the car as I threw the door open and the driver reached to turn it down _ just _ enough to hear my directions. With a nod, he pulled away and drove through the city, taking me right to the Gotham City Police Department. 

I had never been in the police department before, never had a reason to. I hated that he was my reason now. It wasn’t fair. Why was this happening to me? What did he want with me? Just to get in my head and annoy and terrify me? He didn’t need to leave his card for that. One thirty-second experience in his presence had done enough damage.

In a way, I blamed myself for the van incident. I shouldn’t have been in that part of town, should have fought more, should have just stayed in bed that day. I had walked right into him and what happened was all my fault. 

Of course, he didn’t _ have _ to snatch me up, force me to hold a gun to his head and put me on his lap. 

My teeth clamped hard over my bottom lip and I shook the thoughts out of my head. The last thing I wanted to think about now was sitting on his lap, feeling him beneath me and the way he had made me turn to look him in the eyes. And his eyes..._ god _, those eyes. They were so dark, two unfathomable abysses that were both closed off and told me everything I needed to know about him at the same time. 

They were the reason I had been having so much trouble sleeping lately. Every time I shut my eyes, every time I let my mind wander and start to relax, there they were, right over my shoulder, watching me and staring so deep into me I felt as if I were suffocating. 

Exactly how I felt right now.

Even with the AC blasting from the vents of the cab, even with the window cracked right beside my head to let in the fresh air, I felt as if I were breathless. I let my head fall back against the headrest and blinked at the city lights passing us by. As the light ahead turned green, the taxi turned to the right and pulled to a stop just outside a block of a building. I stared up at the small set of concrete stairs and the double doors at the top. Letters spelled out GCPD above the doors and the cab driver turned to look back at me. 

"Need me to wait?" He asked in a gruff voice that made my body twitch with surprise. I shook my head and handed him enough cash for the fare before stepping out of the car. 

When the cab pulled away from the curb, I almost turned around to call it back. I wasn't sure what I was so afraid of. It was almost like I felt as if telling someone else, saying what I had been through out loud, would have made it more real. If I kept it bottled up inside, it was easier to convince myself it had all been in my head. 

My hand flattened against the pocket of my jacket and just beneath the material, I could feel the card and plastic bag I had put it in. This wasn't my imagination. It was real and I had to put a stop to this tonight. 

I hurried up the steps and pushed my way into the doors. A night security guard slowly stood to his feet with a sigh as I paused at the two metal detectors just inside the building. "Put your cellphone, keys, wallet or purse in the bin," he instructed, stepping around the conveyor belt to pass his wand over my body. 

After he had deemed me clear of any weapons, I stepped through the metal detector and took my cell phone back from him. He didn't offer much else and as he returned to his metal, folding chair behind the conveyor belt, I hurried into the lobby and glanced to the small seating areas on either side of the room. The chairs were set up in an L shape and there was a crowd of people sitting in various positions around it. I hadn’t expected to see so many faces and my steps slowed as I took in the nearest group sitting closest to me.

Three of the women looked to be prostitutes and with a quick glance down to their very short skirts and knee-high boots, I turned back to the reception window. It was a thick pane of glass that could slide open and just inside, sitting on a seat in front of an aging computer, was the receptionist. She was in a dark blue uniform that resembled the one the security guard wore and I stepped up to the counter and cleared my throat. She didn't look up from whatever she was typing. 

"Excuse me," I said, knowing my voice was muffled behind the glass. "I need to speak to someone about...about a break-in." 

The woman reached for a clipboard beside the computer and slid it to the window before pushing the glass to the side. I managed to grab the clipboard before it could fall to the floor and a second later, the woman handed me a pen. "Fill these out and when you bring them back up, I'll need a state-issued ID."

I opened my mouth but the glass panel slid back into place, making me blink down at her. Maybe I should show her the card. Surely it would get her attention. 

I scrambled to pull the sandwich bag out of my pocket and managed to hold it up to the glass before tapping my fingernail against it. "You don't understand," I started, glancing at the card. It still felt wrong to be touching it. "I need to see someone who can help me with this. It's the _ Jo _\--" 

The woman stood up and snatched a page that had just printed off before turning her eyes to me. She didn’t even glance at the Ziploc bag I was still pressing into the glass. “Ma’am, we’re a little busy tonight. Everyone has problems. If you fill out the report, someone will be with you as soon as they can.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed to the back of her office where a series of filing cabinets were set up. She wrenched one open and kept her back to me, letting me know that there would be no arguing with her. I took the clipboard and turned to find a seat. I picked the empty one beside a hooker that was dozing off with her head resting against the wall and crossed my legs.

The plastic bag was situated between my leg and the clipboard and I tried not to think about it’s close proximity to me as I filled out the information. For some reason, I skipped the basic information, not wanting to give them anything until I knew they could help me. The less I was tied to him, the better. 

I jumped to the important parts. There was a larger box with ‘Reason for Report’ and I quickly scribbled in that the Joker had broken into my apartment and left me a card. But as I finished the sentence, my pen stilled on the paper. Would they even believe this? It was too complicated to explain in a little box on a piece of paper. I needed to be face to face with someone who would listen.

My eyes lifted back to the reception window and I frowned. It was obvious that the woman wouldn’t give me a chance to explain. This was my only option if I wanted help at all. I quickly filled in the date and estimated time of the break-in and sighed. Once more, the pen in my hand came to a stop and I stared down at the black letters on the page.

A voice, so sinister and echoing right in my ear, whispered through my head and I closed my eyes. _ Or maybe you just prefer someone else to have all the power... _He did this because he knew I was weak. He knew I would let it happen, knew I would cower at the apartment, possibly cry and sweep it all under the rug. 

He wanted me to be powerless.

My teeth clenched and I lifted my head to look back at the window. The woman had returned to her computer and was typing away once again. Before I could stop myself, I jumped to my feet and made it back to her in three quick strides. She didn’t look up at me as I dropped the clipboard onto the counter. It was only when I slapped the sandwich bag, card and ribbon against the glass did her head whip up and eyes go wide at the sight of me. Her mouth was open before I could even speak. “I know you’re not beating on _ my _ window like that!”

“I _ need _ to speak to someone _ now _. The Joker left this for me.”

For a few beats of my heart, the woman blinked between the card and my face before she slowly pushed her chair back and stood to her feet. She cursed beneath her breath and reached over to slap her hand against a button on the wall. A few feet away, a thick steel door buzzed and clicked open, making me stumble back in a bit of a surprise.

I hadn’t exactly expected her to do anything but snap at me again, but apparently mentioning the Joker was what I should have done in the first place. Before she could change her mind, I scrambled through the door and found her walking out of the office with quick steps. She didn’t look back to see if I was following and I clutched the sandwich bag tight against my stomach. My fingers were trembling so badly that I thought I would drop it. 

We stepped into an elevator that took us up two floors and when the doors opened, she stepped out without a backward glance. I had no choice but to follow her and I did with quick steps. The hallway opened up into a large room with a half-wall partition separating an area of desks from the heavy traffic areas. A few detectives and other officers stood around, sipping coffee or looking over paperwork and I tried not to stare too long.

But as I said, I’d never been in a police station before and didn’t quite know what to expect. The woman pushed through a swinging door on the partition wall and I barely caught it before it could slam into my knees. I scowled at the back of her blonde head as she took a left and stopped in front of a messy, cluttered desk. “Hey, Marshall. Got a live one for you.”

A man, who was looking as frazzled and hopeless as I felt sighed and peered up at the woman, a frown pinching in bushy eyebrows. “What now?”

The woman finally looked back at me as I stepped up to the desk and she crossed her arms over her chest. “She says the Joker left her a card.”

He glanced at me with a scoff. “C’mon, Francine. We’re just believing any person that comes in off the streets about this guy? You know we’ve been flooded with calls that never check out.”

“I’m not lying,” I said, wishing my voice didn’t crack halfway through it. I held out the sandwich bag and he snatched it from my hands with a sigh that blew out his cheeks. Francine stepped back to let me get closer. “He knows where I live and when I came home from work tonight, I found this.”

Both Francine and Marshall looked up at me with looks of doubt and I felt my hopes starting to fade. But they had to believe me, right? It was their _ job _ to believe me. I blinked down at the detective, watching him swipe his palm across his face before his eyes lifted to meet mine. 

“Why would he want to leave you his card?”

Shit. I really didn’t want to answer this question, but it was inevitable. I crossed my arms over my chest and shifted from one foot to the other while trying to think of the best way to explain all of this. “Well,” I started, figuring it was best to go back to the beginning. “I was at the fundraiser party that Bruce Wayne held, as a caterer. I guess, the Joker thought I was an easy target to torment. That ribbon--” I leaned over the desk to point down at the red strip inside the bag. “I was wearing it that night and he pulled it out of my hair and left with it.”

They shared a look, eyebrows arched in disbelief and I knew that if I didn’t convince them soon, they were going to kick me out the front door. So I launched into the full story, from the day of the funeral parade, getting snatched up and interviewed by him, leaving my resume and coming home to find the card and ribbon on my nightstand. All the while, the two of them stared at me, unblinking and unresponsive.

When I finished, glancing between them for any sign that they believed me, I found Francine throwing her hands up in front of her with a shake of her head. “I gotta get back to work,” she scoffed. “She’s all yours.”

Wow.

What a bitch.

She pushed her way through the swinging door and I let my arms fall to my side. The detective sat back in his chair and tossed the bag onto his desk. “You’re telling me that the same guy who is targeting specific people in the public eye all over the city has also set his sights on a random caterer?”

“Yes.”

Marshall sat back up and shook his head with a laugh that made me narrow my eyes into a glare. “You know, we got a call two days ago--a psychic--she told us the Joker is actually Elvis Prestley who has come back from the dead to seek revenge on Gotham.”

My jaw clenched tight and I swallowed back the urge to cry. God, I hated being an angry crier. With my hands tightening into fists at my sides, I blinked down at him and ignored the burn at the back of my eyelids. “I’m _ not _ crazy. I need your help, okay? Isn’t it--I don’t know-- _ illegal _ to ignore evidence? That is my ribbon. He pulled it out of my hair and gave me half back. His card is a _ threat _! What if his fingerprints were on this or some other evidence and you just ignored it?”

The detective sighed again and scrubbed his hands over his face before standing to his feet. For a moment, I thought he was going to walk away, tell me to get the hell out of there and walk away laughing. But instead, he pointed a finger at me and shook his head. 

“Stay here, don’t move.”

I nodded but he was already walking away, heading deeper into the precinct. The room was lined with small offices toward the back that were mostly dark for the night. He hurried past them into a part of the station I couldn’t see and once he was out of my sight, I lowered myself into one of the chairs in front of his desk. 

My legs bounced with that same nervous energy from before and I pulled my jacket tighter around me. Despite the warm night, the inside of the police station was kept chilly and I was regretting shorts. Goosebumps trailed down the length of my legs and I glanced at the plastic bag still sitting on Marshall’s desk.

It was the first time I felt alright to actually look at it. The black letter J in the top left corner and the printed Joker figure in the center pulled my eye across it to the words he had typed. _ One for Me. One for you _. Before I could stop myself, I reached out and took the corner of the bag, sliding it toward me.

The bow he had tied was prettier than I could make and I let out a scoff at the thought. Each loop was even and the ends fell against the card as if he took his time to make sure it was close to perfect as it could get. Which was a bizarre thought. Everything about him seemed messy and chaotic, from the way he stormed into Bruce Wayne’s penthouse to the makeup smeared across his face. Why would he put so much care into this?

_ Maybe he likes you _…

A voice piped up in the back of my head, making me wrinkle my nose and shake my head. I tossed the bag back onto the desk, turning my head away from it. Apparently, my lack of sleep the last few nights was making me a little crazy. 

From the other side of the room, a policeman’s radio hissed with static and a moment later, the last remaining officers in the room hurried down the hall where Marshall had disappeared to. Seeing them in such a rush left my stomach clenching with nervousness, but honestly, what could happen here? 

This was the safest place in Gotham at the moment.

I just wish I could find a little bit of peace in knowing that. Fear and dread still sat within me and left me jittery and paranoid. And with every passing minute that Detective Marshall didn’t return, the worse that paranoia became. 

What was taking him so long?

It had to be passed four in the morning by now. The adrenaline was starting to wane and my body was begging for the crash. After the past four days of barely any sleep, it was starving for it. There was no way I would be able to work tomorrow and I wondered if I should leave Abby a message now.

I pulled my cell phone from the pocket of my jacket and pulled up my text messages. She had already commented on me looking like shit. Maybe a generic ‘I’m sick’ excuse wouldn’t be too far-fetched for her to believe. 

If only I wasn’t missing out on good money. 

Once it was sent, I put the phone back into my pocket and sat back in the chair with a sigh. Twenty more minutes, and I was going to get up and leave, no matter what he said. I could understand if it was in the middle of the day, but this was--

Shouting toward the back of the room, exactly where the police officers and Marshall had disappeared to, pulled my attention and I sat up in the chair. My heartbeat like a drum as it grew closer and I could hear several people shouting threats. Through the darkened offices along the back of the room, there was a rush of commotion and I blinked at the sight.

Several detectives and uniformed officers had their guns drawn and were pointing it right to a figure holding something to a man’s neck. Not just any figure though...Even in the darkness of the office, I could see his messy hair and smeared, white face.

Every drop of blood in my body ran cold and I felt that same terror seep from my head down to my toes. He was here. 

“What do you want?” Someone shouted, making all the sound rush back into my ears. I stood to my feet, the back of my legs knocking into the chair I had been sitting in. 

I turned on my heel and hurried to the swinging door. Before I could kick it open and flee, something stopped me. I turned back and stared at the bag still sitting on the detective’s desk. What if Joker saw it? What if he found it and knew I was here? He would come looking for me.

I rushed back to the desk, my sneaker slipping on a piece of paper on the floor and my knee went down hard on the tile. I managed to keep myself from falling all the way and reached over to snatch the bag. And just as I shoved it back in my pocket, the entire building was rocked.

An explosion ripped from the back room and I felt myself screaming before I could hear it. The force of it shook the walls and sent me to the floor on my hands and knees, the bag still clutched within my fist.

I blinked down at the tile beneath me as the lights flickered before going off. At the exits, the emergency lights came on and the smoke detectors came to life and the sound pierced my ears. I put my hands over them and stood up, turning to face the offices where he had been. They seemed empty upon first glance but a shadow moved in front of the window, pulling my eyes toward it.

Everything faded away and time slowed to a stop. The erratic shrieking of the alarms, the sprinklers going off down the hall, it all disappeared the moment he turned the corner and spotted me. His gaze, quickly flicking down the length of my body froze me to the spot even from across the massive room. I could only stare, my lips parted and throat clenched tightly around a sob as he darkened the doorway and lifted the corners of his lips. 

“Well, hello again,” he said and even through the constant beeping of the smoke detectors, the sound of his voice made me flinch. There were a thousand things I should have said, but I could barely form a thought let alone a sound. And when his eyes fell to the bag I held down at my side, my knees started to shake. 

He didn’t say anything else but didn’t exactly have to. The slow grin that stretched across his mouth told me he knew what it was, knew what I was doing there and that I fell right into the trap he had set. Without waiting around for me to finally regain my ability to speak, Joker turned to the left and pushed his way into the emergency exit, leaving me to stare at the space he had just occupied. 

As soon as he was gone, whatever trance he had over me lifted and I stumbled back on my heels. I should have checked to see if everyone was alright if anyone needed my help. But I couldn’t think beyond getting as far away from this building, far away from _ him _ as I could get.

I didn’t look back. I ran to the elevators, ignoring all of the warnings that in case of fire, take the stairs but I was more afraid of what was on the stairs than a fire. Luckily, the elevator still worked and I slapped the ground floor button over and over until the doors were sliding closed. In the reflection of the metal, I could just make out my face and how ghostly pale it was.

As soon as the doors opened, I ran. I shoved the heavy steel door open and ignored the security guard on his feet, speaking to an emergency dispatcher. Even as he shouted at me to stop, I burst out of the front doors and ran as fast as I could, as far as I could. 

I never looked back.

I was too afraid that if I did, he would be there, following me. I wasn’t safe at home, I wasn’t safe surrounded by police...I wasn’t safe anywhere. 

* * *

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the next chapter is going to be quite good. We'll get more Joker...a lot more.


	6. Monster

* * *

_Don't be afraid of the monsters_   
_Or the vultures in the sky_   
_See the static on the TV_   
_Feel the violence of the night_

* * *

The glowing light of the television began to fade as the sun rose higher over the buildings across the street. I watched the shadows move across the walls and the sunlight catch the crystal prism that Chelsea had hung in the window for ‘good vibes’. It cast a rainbow across the wall and I watched the colors slowly stretch as the sun rose higher.

Good vibes.

There were no good vibes today. 

All I felt was the complete opposite. Bad vibes. Terrified, horrified, disgusted vibes. No amount of crystals hanging in the sunshine would get rid of this feeling. 

For the thousandth time since I made it back to the apartment, I looked back at the front door and swept my eyes from the deadbolt twisted in place. The chain was secured as well and just for good measure, I had wedged one of the kitchen chairs beneath the knob. Whether it would work to keep anyone out, I wasn’t too sure. But I had to do something.

The police were far too busy putting out the fires that had exploded in three separate areas of the city overnight. Fires that the Joker had been the cause of. Just thinking his name made my fingers curl tighter around the pillow held to my chest. 

For the past two hours, every local news station was replaying the events of the night nonstop. His alias was all over the place. Everywhere I turned, there he was. I couldn’t leave the apartment, didn’t feel safe staying here, and if that wasn’t bad enough, I couldn’t even close my eyes without seeing him there.

Standing in front of the destruction he’d caused inside the police station, that slow grin stretching one side of his mouth as he spotted me...Or the way he had stared down at me in that alley after colliding with him. It was always there behind my eyelids. A constant reminder that even when I was alone, he was lurking close by. 

As the news switched briefly to the death of a district attorney named Rachel Dawes and the attack on Harvey Dent, I snatched the remote and muted it. I didn’t want to hear anymore. It was too horrible to even try to comprehend. I didn’t understand a bit of it.

It was easy to figure out _ why _ he had targeted both of them. Dent was someone all of Gotham pretty much trusted to do the right thing and Joker wanted to get rid of him. His girlfriend had been unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire. But knowing that the two of them were relatively important people in the grand scheme of Gotham’s future only made me wonder…

Why the fuck was he targeting _ me _?

I meant _ nothing _ to the city. I wasn’t even a Gotham native for god’s sake! And if he killed people like Harvey Dent and the police commissioner and judges, then what could he possibly want with me? Was my fate the same as Rachel Dawes’? Was I just caught in the middle of Joker’s crossfire with the entire city?

I didn’t like that thought.

I didn’t want to be _ anywhere _ but far away from him. 

Which meant I was going to have to figure out a way to get back home. And while that meant listening to my parents give me the typical ‘we told you so’ lecture about my poor life choices to move to the _ big city _ and follow my teenage dreams, I was alright with that. In fact, I would welcome it at this moment. 

Maybe if I had listened to them, I wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.

It was too early to call them. Sunday was my father’s relaxation day and he and my mother usually spent it fishing or taking a drive around the countryside. Besides, if I called this early, they would assume something was wrong and would attempt to come to get me. I couldn’t risk them coming into the city.

Not when _ he _ was still running amuck. 

I would just call them and tell them that I’ve had no luck finding work, I’m broke, and there’s no other choice but for me to move back home. Hopefully, by tomorrow, I could be riding a bus out of this city and safe where he couldn’t track me down. I would be back home, back in the small town where I could work at the local grocery store and live peacefully.

I’ve had enough of the city life.

The news segment shifted back to the fire and explosion that rocked the police department and I winced at the death and injury toll. A part of me felt bad for fleeing the scene when there were dozens of injuries but I had been running on pure adrenaline at that point. There was no way for me to ignore my fight or flight instinct forcing me to run. 

And besides, I didn’t exactly want to stick around and answer any more questions about my involvement with the infamous Joker. 

My eyes cut to the jacket I had stripped off hours ago and tossed onto the arm of the couch. It still laid right where I had thrown it and I knew that in the depths of the pocket, the ribbon and playing card were sitting patiently for me to pull them out. I had refused to look or even think about them since I got home, not wanting any other reminders of him. But now that time had passed and I was in the quiet of the apartment alone, I felt the stirrings of curiosity inside me.

Pursing my lips, I reached across the couch and pulled the jacket closer to me. The top corner of the plastic sandwich bag poked out of the pocket and I could see the top loop of the perfect bow he had tied. It was such a stark contrast against the card; bright red on white. 

I traced the edge of the plastic with my finger and dipped them into the pocket to pull it completely out. Behind me, I could hear keys at the door and a second later, they slid into the deadbolt and twisted it. My blood ran cold and I scrambled off the couch, reaching for the butcher knife I had kept at my side all morning.

The lock on the doorknob turned and with a twist, the door hit against the chair I had wedged beneath the knob. I heard a whispered curse from the other side and before I could let out a sigh or relief at the familiar irritated sound, Chelsea knocked on the door. “What the hell? Natalie, are you in there?”

I hurried around the couch and tossed the knife onto the kitchen counter before pulling the chair away from the door. It opened in a puff of air that blew my hair back and I quickly looked around her into the hallway to make sure she hadn’t been followed. Chelsea backed into the door and stared at me like I was a crazy person. 

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” I sighed, pushing my hair away from my face as I ducked back into the apartment. I twisted the locks and turned to face her with a smile. The look of fatigue on her face, sitting heavy in the dark circles beneath her eyes made the smile vanish and I blinked at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Greg’s aunt died last night.”

For a split second, I feared she had been caught up in the explosions that had rocked Gotham, but the memory of Chelsea mentioning that his aunt had been in the hospital for several months sprang back up. I crossed my arms over my chest, not sure whether to reach out and comfort her or not. I opted against it. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Chelsea shrugged out of her sweater and draped it across the back of the kitchen chair I had used to bar the door. She moved to the fridge and opened it to grab a bottle of her expensive organic juice that I was forbidden to touch. “She had been sick for a long time. But we’re leaving around three for the funeral.”

“Oh.” I felt as if the wires in my brain weren’t firing correctly. I blinked at her as she took a long sip from the juice bottle. “You’re leaving today?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ve taken the week off so I can be with Greg and his family.”

“Why do you have to leave today?”

Chelsea narrowed her eyes on me and twisted the cap back onto her bottle. “Because it’s going to take several hours to drive up to where she lived in Vermont. Greg’s picking me up in a few hours after he gets everything settled with work.” She put her hands on her hips as she closed the fridge. “Are you alright? You look like you’re tweaking or something.”

“What? No, I’m not _ tweaking _...I just don’t like the thought of being here alone for a week.”

“Well, I can’t help that.” Her eyes fell to the counter where the knife still sat and I shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m sure you’ll be alright. I have to get ready and pack for the week.”

Before she could disappear into her bedroom, I took a step toward her and gestured a hand to the television, still muted and still playing the same repeated news stories. “Haven’t you seen the news? It’s crazy out there.”

Chelsea pushed her hair over her shoulder and scoffed. “Why do you think I’m looking forward to getting away for a week? Maybe you should do the same.”

Except I didn’t have a boyfriend who could just take me out of the city or a job to provide the funds to pay for the cab or bus fare. Which reminded me that in addition to informing my parents about coming home, I’d have to ask them to wire me some money to actually _ get _ home. They weren’t going to be too happy about that, but I figured I could use the attacks on the city to gain some sympathy points.

It's not like my parents didn’t care about me. It was more like they were still upset that I chose to live away from them and haven’t really kept in touch for the past three years. I winced as I remembered that I had ditched the last few holiday get-togethers without so much as a phone call. 

With a heavy sigh, I watched her move into her bedroom and let my shoulders fall in defeat. There was no way around it. I was going to be alone for the next 24 hours. Hopefully, in that span of time, the Joker would be far too busy planning his next move on the city or laying low to even think about me.

And while Chelsea was here, I was going to _ try _ to catch up on some sleep. I would need to be alert and awake after she left. I asked her to wake me up before she left and though she seemed a bit preoccupied with her suitcase, she gave me a nod and a dismissive wave over her shoulder. I hoped the few hours I would get of sleep would be enough to hold me over until I could get out of this city as well.

.

.

Though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I slowly blinked my eyes open to the sound of the fridge opening out in the kitchen. I wasn’t sure how long it had been since I had practically passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow but it couldn’t have been too long since Chelsea was still home.

It felt longer than a few hours though.

My mind was still incredibly foggy from exhaustion and the muscles along my shoulders ached in protest as I peeled myself up from the mattress. With a groan that turned into a sigh, my feet found the floor and I rubbed at the sleep in my eyes. Upon opening them once more, I caught sight of the late afternoon sun streaming in through the window across from the bed. 

Odd.

I could have sworn Chelsea said Greg would be picking her up around three. Stifling a yawn behind my arm, I turned to the alarm clock on my bedside table to check the time. I ignored the momentary panic that touched my chest knowing the last time I looked at it I had found the ribbon. Thankfully, there were no more surprises. Well, not from the Joker anyway.

The green, digital numbers were surprising enough, however. It was nearly 5:30 in the afternoon. Why was she still here? Had their plans changed? It was awful of me, but I kind of hoped they had. I didn’t want to stay here alone.

I stood to my feet and straightened my T-shirt around my torso after it had gotten twisted up in my sleep. Since Greg’s boisterous voice wasn’t echoing through the entire apartment like usual, I figured he wasn’t here yet and decided not to pull on a pair of pants. Besides, Chelsea had seen me in my underwear plenty of times and I’d seen her in hers as well. 

My hand was on the knob, pulling my bedroom door open to the living room just as I opened my mouth to speak. “I thought you were leaving at--” 

The words died on my mouth in an instant. Actually, my throat had clenched tightly all of a sudden, not letting a single sound or breath out of my mouth at the sight of a figure that was quite clearly _ not _ Chelsea standing in my kitchen. At first, in the dim light of the room, all I could tell was that they were hunched over with their head ducked in the fridge and if I thought that maybe, just _ maybe _, he hadn’t heard me, I was sorely mistaken.

Slowly, he pulled his head out of the fridge and straightened to his full height. Well, as close to it as he was going to get with his shoulders hunched up around his ears. 

My entire body was frozen to the spot though my brain was begging for me to run to the front door as fast as I could. It was no use. No amount of screaming in my head was working and I felt the color drain out of my face as his eyes skated down the length of my body. My very exposed, half-naked body.

“Mm, well,” he started, letting the fridge door shut behind him. The color of his tongue was brighter than I was expecting and I watched with wide eyes as he wet the corner of his lips. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see he had an apple held in his palm and he pointed a finger at me from the same hand. “If I knew you were going to dress so _ comfortably _, I wouldn’t have tried to be so formal.”

By the time he made it to the table in the center of the kitchen, a switch was thrown inside me, swapping the urgency in my brain to my body. Tension was coiled tightly in the muscles of my legs and I used it to propel me forward, right to the front door. Of course, it was much easier to run across the tile floor while _ not _ wearing socks, but it would seem that my streak of making careless mistakes was still going strong. 

I scrambled between the table and the couch and reached out with one hand for the doorknob. The tips of my fingers brushed along the cold brass, reminding me of the last time I had tried to flee away from him in the van. And just as he had then, he easily crossed the distance between us and looped an arm around my waist. In an instant, his scent, the smell I had tried _ so _ hard to forget, came flooding back into my senses. 

“No!” I snarled, bringing an elbow back to slam into his side. He was further from me than I anticipated and I only managed to touch him. “Let me _ go _!” 

Joker whirled me away from the door and the living room spun past me in a blur, my socks gliding over the floor they had tried so hard to run across a moment ago. He kept my feet dangling up off the floor with his arm still gripped around my midsection. And in addition to the panic and horror already coursing through me, he leaned his head forward and brought his face right against my neck. 

“Where did you think you were going to go?” There was an edge to his voice as if he were trying not to laugh in my ear. I squeezed my eyes shut at the feel of the warmth of his breath against my neck. “Am I going to have to tie you to the chair, _ Natalie _?”

My head was shaking before I could even process what he was saying and when he nodded, I could feel the scars of his face brush against my ear. “Good.”

Once my feet hit the floor again, I was facing the table and he shoved me toward one of the chairs. I managed to grab the back of it before toppling over the table and quickly shook the hair from my face before whirling around to face him. For some reason, it surprised me to see him still holding onto the apple. He hadn’t even dropped it. 

My eyes lifted to his face and he turned his head away from me though his gaze stayed true to me. It instantly made me swallow tightly and I backed away from him as he pulled a chair out from beneath the table and positioned it between me and the door. Again, he pointed to me with the hand occupied with the apple while reaching into his pocket with the other. 

“Sit,” he commanded. Though it was the exact opposite of everything I knew I should do, I did as he told and lowered myself into the chair across from his. My knees were shaking so hard I had to put my hand between them to keep the bones from jarring. From the depths of his pocket, he pulled out a small knife and my eyes went wide at the sight of the blade. 

Before I could stop myself, my voice returned from the depths of my throat, apparently no longer too terrified to speak. “Where’s Chelsea?”

Joker glanced around the kitchen in confusion before turning back to face me, his brows pinched in a frown though his lips were curled into a smile. “Who? It’s just us in here sweetheart.”

Hearing him call me that brought a scowl to my face and I glanced down to his hands. He pushed the blade into the apple and began to peel it and when I lifted my gaze back to his, I found him looking amused. Not only was I still terrified, sitting in my kitchen with the Joker, but I was furious as well. How dare he do this! How dare he barge into my life and just think he can do whatever he wanted!

His voice broke through my thoughts and I blinked as he wagged the tip of the blade toward me. “I like that look in your eye. Quite _ feisty _.”

“Why are you here?”

His eyebrows lifted and he shifted in the chair, reaching up to pop a slice of the apple into his mouth. He chewed it quickly and shook his head as if I should just _ know _ why he was here. When he swallowed, he leaned an elbow onto the table and looked me over again in one of those looks that made every inch of my skin crawl. 

“I _ figured _ we could have a little chat. Seeing as how you and I are always _ bumping _ into one another.”

“A chat…”

He didn’t elaborate, much to my annoyance and continued to sit across from me like we were old friends catching up. He sliced another small chunk of apple off and popped it into his mouth before finally noticing me again. I watched him offer me a bite and I shook my head, staring at him in disbelief. 

Joker shrugged and set the apple down onto the table at his right, though he kept hold of the knife. As he cleaned the blade on the side of his pants, his attention momentarily off of me, I took the moment to look at him. The color of his suit, so purple and garish, stood out against the white countertop and appliances of the kitchen behind him. 

Even the pattern on his tie clashed against the one on his shirt. It was as if he chose it all to be as off-putting as possible, though it did look as if it were made of quality material. It even looked soft to the touch. Not that I knew what quality material _ was _ and not that I really cared if his suit was soft or not--

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” He asked without even looking up from his knife.

My lips snapped shut and I quickly looked away from him, focusing instead on the late afternoon sun slipping behind the buildings. I could feel the burn of embarrassment touch my face and I wasn’t sure if I was more upset he caught me or the fact that he was _ still _ calling me sweetheart.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, _ Natalie _\--” That wasn’t much better to hear, to be honest. I looked back in time to see him adjusting his coat as he sat back against the chair with a quick flick of his tongue over his bottom lip. “I can tell you’ve got something on your mind, so go ahead and say it. I’ll wait.”

There was irritation in his voice and it was a bit alarming. I knew if I didn’t keep him busy and interested, he was going to get bored of me and slice _ me _ with that knife soon. I shifted on the chair, wincing at the sweat building up between my thighs and the wood, and cleared my throat. 

“I guess I’m...just confused about why you’re doing all of this. I mean, you’re obviously extremely smart so why not use your intelligence for good?” That’s it, Natalie. Compliment him. Feed his ego. Maybe if I keep it up, he’ll go easy on me and leave me alone. 

Joker barely let the question sink in before he was answering. “Well, who says I’m _ not _?”

“You’re killing innocent people.” 

“Innocent? No, no one is innocent, _ Natalie _. I'm giving people a choice. When they make the wrong choice, there has to be consequences." His words made me blink in surprise and I found myself sitting forward just a fraction of an inch. 

“You’re playing god. Why should you have that kind of power--”

The knife was a blur in the air, making my voice die in the back of my throat with a whimper as the tip of the blade drove into the wood of the table. In the echo of the thump, I swallowed and fell back against the chair once more. And thankfully, because he took the opportunity to lean toward me. Even with the same amount of distance between us as before, he felt too close to me and I wished I could shrink away from him more.

“Look, I didn’t come here to argue about right and wrong, Natalie. You think there's a clear line between the two, I think it's all one big sandbox to play around in. Let's agree to disagree, _ hmm? _" He gripped the chair between his legs and slid it across the floor, bringing him much closer than before. His knees touched mine and I let my hands fall away to grip the seat on either side of my hips. When his eyes met mine, I could tell he was annoyed and waiting for my response and I nodded shakily. The smell of him, gasoline and something burnt, was making me dizzy.

“O-okay. Why did you come here then?”

It was the one question I had wanted to know from the moment I saw him rooting through the fridge, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear the answer. Joker looked at me, his tongue darting out to flick against the corner of my lips and for a flash of a second, I was distracted by the color of it. 

“I think I had you pegged _ all wrong _ .” His voice went just a touch deeper and my eyebrows lifted before I could stop them. “See, at first, at that _ little party _, you caught my attention and I wasn't quite sure why. It's rare for anyone to catch my eye, but you did."

Another flick of his tongue.

I narrowed my eyes slightly as he did it and wondered if it was a type of nervous tick as a result of his scars or something he did to intimidate whoever he was talking to. It was unsettling for sure, but I found myself distracted by the sight of it each time. 

"I thought you were just a scared little girl in the wrong place at the wrong time. And then we found one another _ again _ . This time, it had to be a coincidence, serendipity, if you will. But then--” He wagged his finger at me, coming much too close and again, I backed as far into the chair as I possibly could. "Then, after being locked away in Gordon's cells all night, I come out and to my surprise _ there you are _ . Standing there, staring at me and at that moment it dawned on me. It isn't a coincidence at all. _ You seek me out. _"

“I had no idea you would be there. At any of those places.”

Thankfully, he sat back and I felt as if I could let out the breath that was starting to make my lungs burn. I blinked as he shrugged a shoulder. "Doesn't matter. You may not have consciously sought me out, but _ something _ in there did." He pointed to my forehead making me scowl and I had to resist the urge to reach up and rub the exact spot he was pointing to. "You see Natalie, people aren't that complicated. They may think they're special, putting up walls and masks to hide behind, but who they _ really and truly are _ always come out when they're afraid. Fear strips down those walls and _ peels _ back those layers to show what they really feel. And that's exactly why _ you _ caught my eye. It was what was lying right behind that fear in your eyes. Would you like to know what it was?" 

I didn’t know when he had grown so soft-spoken, only that his last question was barely a whisper and it slithered through my veins like the ice of panic. It took a moment for all of his words to sink into my head and for me to process what he was saying. I didn’t want to know what he saw. I didn’t _ care _ what he saw.

Did I?

I was already nodding before I could stop myself and the smile that stretched his lips was quick and startling. It was clear that he knew I wouldn’t have answered any other way. With a quick tap of his fingers on the surface of the table, he stood to his feet and I sucked in a sharp breath, watching him until he was towering over me. 

“How about I show you?”

My heels dug into the tiles and I scrambled back as quickly as I could, nearly stumbling backward over the chair. The legs scraped over the floor, filling the sudden silence with the sharp sound though he paid no attention to it. “Why can’t you just tell me?”

“Because _ Natalie _\--” The tip of his tongue caught my attention yet again. “Showing you would be much more enjoyable.”

“For you or for me?”

His laugh was shrill and sudden and I found my hands nearly reaching to cover my ears. I backed away from him, though it didn’t stop him from advancing toward me, and I wished I had been smart enough to reach for the knife still stuck in the surface of the table. When my back hit the wall behind me, I gasped and thought briefly about trying to overpower him. It was a ridiculous thought--he had held me back easily with one arm--and I quickly pushed it down in my mind. 

Joker struck his hand out and I squeezed my eyes shut, expecting to feel his fingers around my throat. When there was no pain, I peeked out from behind my eyelids to find his hand against the wall beside my head. He ducked his head toward me, making my eyes meet his and I didn’t know what was worse; seeing him smiling at me or seeing him staring _ so _ intensely into my eyes that I felt my legs tremble. 

“_ Ah _ , there it is.” With his free hand, he reached up and brushed the back of his leather glove down the length of my cheek. I hadn’t realized how bad my entire body was shaking until he did so and I tried to push myself deeper into the wall-- _ anything _ to put distance between him and me. "So small. Makes me wonder if you even know its there at all."

“Please,” I hated the way it sounded on my tongue, hated the way it tasted to beg him.

“Mm, begging already?”

“Please, don’t hurt me.”

“_ Hurt _ you? Oh, sweetheart,” Joker murmured in a mocking tone. He stroked his hand down my cheek once again and I squeezed my eyes shut. “It’s all I’ve wanted to do since I first saw you. But not tonight.”

His touch, his closeness, the smell of gasoline and burnt paper lifted away all of a sudden and I sucked in a deep, quivering breath. With a flutter of my eyelids, I watched him back away until he was back at the table, reaching down to pluck the knife from the surface. “You don’t seem like an _ old fashioned _ type of girl to me, Natalie. The kind who needs romance and flowers.” He slipped the knife back into the pocket of his coat and I tried to make sense of what he was saying. “But you see, _ I like _ all of that. I _ like _ the process of courting and I think _ you _ are in need of a proper courtship.”

_ Courtship _?

What did he mean by that?

What the fuck?

My confusion was written across my face and I knew he could see it, but that was exactly what he wanted. He wanted me scared and confused and irrational like it was his goddamn fetish or something. I was still pressed as hard into the wall as I could possibly get, even as he put more and more distance between us, and once he reached the door, he grinned. “Friday,” he said, twisting the knob to pull it open. “I’ll show you _ exactly _ what you’ve got going on in there.”

He pointed a few times toward my head, gesturing to me exactly what he meant by ‘_ in there’ _. I could only stare in terrified bewilderment as he backed out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him. Before I could let out a breath of relief he pushed it back open to reappear. “Oh, and I wouldn’t try to leave the city if I were you. You see, I’ve got some things planned and I wouldn’t want you caught up in the chaos. Not yet anyway.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a cliffhanger, haha! Oh, what does Joker have up his sleeve for our dear Natalie?


	7. Hide And Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalie plays a little hide and seek with Joker. Wonder who wins.

* * *

_Here I come to find you_   
_Hurry up and run_   
_Let's play a little game and have fun_

* * *

_ I wouldn't want you caught up in the chaos… _

Too late.

I was as caught up as I wanted to be and I didn't even want this much. My thoughts over the next few days were mostly the pitiful, woe is me, depressing types that usually circled one's mind when they were in a situation as fucked as the one I'd found myself in. But by Wednesday, I was exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally.

I was running on very little sleep, just enough to keep me alive really, and after dozing off unexpectedly on the couch and waking several hours from a nightmare that felt too close to home, I'd had enough of this. How long could I lurk around my apartment, crying and asking the universe 'why me'? I knew the answer to that question. I had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time and apparently, in a past life, I had done some shit to warrant this chaos I'd been thrown into.

There was nothing I could do to change the why of the situation. It was what it was.

What I could change was what would happen next.

If he thought for one minute that I was just going to wait around, twirling my hair around my finger, for him to show back up on my doorstep, he was sorely mistaken. While I did believe his threat not to leave the city, he said nothing about hiding within the city. And I'm not exactly proud of myself for what I did, but I was currently backed into a corner that limited my choices.

I was scared and I was broke.

The money I made from the one day working with Abby was enough to hide me away for a night or two, but I needed something more. I needed a week...or at least until the police or Batman could put Joker away where he belonged. Who knew how long that would be though? I had to think ahead and plan for the things I couldn’t control.

I couldn't take a chance and rely on people that might not be able to help me. So I did what anyone else in my situation would have done.

Several weeks ago, I'd been sleeping in my bedroom and woke to the sound of Greg and Chelsea talking from the front door. They hadn't noticed I was home and now, I'm thankful for that. He had been scolding her for being careless with her money and ever the stubborn, pigheaded woman that she is, Chelsea had ignored his advice to take her rainy day fund and open a savings account with it. She felt she was perfectly safe keeping it locked away in a box beneath her bed.

Which was convenient for me.

I had found it easily and broke into it with one of the few tools we kept around the place. The box did not survive my hammer assault and I knew when she got back and saw what I had done that I would no longer have a place to live, but that was fine. I didn't want to live in Gotham anymore anyway.

With my meager $225 and Chelsea's stash of about $1300, I threw some clothes into a duffel bag and left. I wouldn't leave the city, but I was going to hide my ass in the furthest hotel away from this apartment. I found a place with decent security that I didn't have to leave a name or credit card to rent a room and dressed in sweats, sunglasses and a baseball cap, I holed myself up on the third floor of the Gotham Motel.

I didn't sleep until Thursday afternoon and only then it was because my body just couldn’t stay awake any longer. I had spent the morning pacing the length of the motel room floor, trying to figure out how I was going to get through this. Tomorrow was going to be hell. I already knew I wouldn’t sleep a wink until Saturday morning. Even then, there was a chance he would come for me and he would be pissed.

I was prepared for that.

In case he did come for me, I had brought along my trusty kitchen knife and it would be with me at all times. I wouldn’t be caught by surprise again. And since he liked knives so much, he’d appreciate my choice of weapon to defend myself with.

Dwelling on what he would think of anything to do with me made me feel strange and I shook the thoughts from my head. I had to focus on more important things at the moment like calling the police.

They hadn’t been much help the last time, but that wasn’t necessarily their fault. It’s not like they could have anticipated being blown halfway to hell. So after forcing myself to eat vending machine food for lunch, I sat on the bed in the dingy motel room dialing the number for the police department on the phone.

A man picked up after the fifth ring, right before I was about to give up and as soon as I heard his tired voice on the line, I blinked. "Hello? Gotham Police?"

"Um, I need help."

"Ma'am, if this is an emergency you need to hang up and dial 911."

"It isn't an emergency, but I need to talk to someone." I squeezed my eyes shut and stood up from the bed. If I sat still for too long, it was like my energy had nowhere to go. I had to get it out of my body and pacing was the best way to do that.

From the other end of the line, the man sighed and I heard him shuffling something around. "What do you need help with?"

Before I could stop myself, I let out a laugh that sounded half-crazed. "This is going to sound crazy, but I'm being targeted by the Joker."

Silence was my answer and I blinked, pressing the phone closer to my ear. I could still hear the sounds of the busy precinct from the receiver and just as I opened my mouth to ask if the guy was still there, he laughed. I reeled back. It was hard to believe, but I didn't think he would _ laugh _ at me.

"Lady, you know how many calls we got just this morning about that guy?"

"I know it sounds hard to believe but--"

"Unless you have something real, we can't help you."

"But, it _ is _ real! He came to my home, he stole my ribbon and--" My lips snapped shut and I put a hand to my forehead, knowing I sounded like a psycho at the moment. "He's been leaving me messages and he threatened me, _ in my home _ a few days ago."

"Threatened you with what?"

"With a--" Again, I clamped my mouth shut and stared at the dusty curtains covering the window across from me. What could I say to that? That he threatened me with a date? He had pointed a knife at me and grabbed me, but that wasn't exactly anything I could report, was it? I shook my head and spun around to face the bed. "He said he would be back at my house Friday. I left but I think if someone is there at my apartment, they might could ambush him or something."

"Lady," the man said with an annoyed sigh. I could hear the frustration in his voice and knew he wasn't going to believe me. "You're not the first person who called us about this guy today, telling us something similar. We can't send the entire force to your apartment. If you're in a safe place now, I suggest you stay there and call us if you have an emergency."

"No, please, don't hang--"

The click of the phone from his end cut my words off and I pulled the phone away from my ear to stare down at it in disbelief. I hadn't expected them to send the army to help me, but I at least figured they would take my name down and do _ something _! What good were they if they were just going to ignore someone's plea like this?

Feeling angry and helpless, I slammed the phone back down on the receiver and continued to pace the length of the floor in front of the bed. At least I didn't feel guilty about leaving the scene of the explosion anymore. If this is how they treated the citizens they were meant to protect, then...

I didn't want to finish that sentence. They didn't deserve to be punished just because they wouldn't --_ couldn't _ \-- help me this one time. Too easily, the sound of _ his _ voice echoed through my head, repeating the words I had sat in the kitchen, listening to him say to me. ' _ I'm giving people a choice. When they make the wrong choice, there has to be consequences'. _

It was disturbing how even now, days later, I could hear the exact tone in which he spoke, could even see the way he carefully slid the blade through the apple peel. I brought the heels of my palms to my eyes and pressed down until I could see stars dancing across the back of my eyelids. I wanted to see _ anything _ besides his eyes looking at me.

As soon as I dropped my arms to my side and tilted my head back to blink through the dark spots dancing through my vision, the exhaustion hit my body like a truck. Just standing there, breathing and blinking, felt like too much effort.

I let out a sigh and turned to the duffel bag on the floor. The flap was open and a few of my clothes were hanging out. I had packed just enough to do me for the next few days, but I didn't have any plans to go back to my apartment. What I had was what I would take with me out of Gotham once all this was over.

Just beneath a few of my T-shirts, rolled up in a pair of pajama pants, was the butcher knife I had brought with me from home. It had been my security blanket the past week or so and I wasn't going to forget it this time. I clutched it in my fist and stared down at the silver blade, catching the reflection of my exhausted eyes in the metal.

I had never stabbed someone before. I didn't even eat meat for god's sake. But I knew it I wanted to survive this, I was going to have to do _ something _. And if that meant stabbing him in the chest the next time he came near me, then I was willing to live with that.

I managed to crawl into the bed and dip my legs beneath the scratchy sheets and thin blanket that the motel provided. It wasn't comfortable, but at least it smelled and felt clean. My eyes were closed by the time my head hit the pillow and while it was probably not exactly safe to sleep while clutching a butcher knife, I didn't dare let it go.

.

.

It wasn't my intention to sleep for 16 hours, but that was what happened. Friday morning, I had woken with a start to the sound of housekeeping knocking on my door. Sweat had immediately beaded up beneath my armpits and I stumbled to the door to tell the poor woman to come back later. She had shaken her head and turned her cart away to move to the next room.

I shut the door behind her and made sure the deadbolt and chain lock was in place before letting my forehead drop to the cool surface. It did little to calm my nerves but slowly, my pulse was returning to a normal pace. It was then that I realized in my shock from the noise at the door that I had left the knife in the bed like a moron.

I crossed the room and found it tangled up in the sheets. It was a miracle that I hadn't accidentally stabbed myself in the face since I was being so careless. With a roll of my eyes, I lowered myself down on the corner of the bed and put my head in my hands. It felt as if the days before, my weeks and months and even years I've spent on this Earth all happened so fast and only now was time moving slowly.

Each second passed by like minutes and though it felt like hours with me sitting on the bed, staring at the knife in my lap and the old, frayed carpet between my feet, only ten minutes had truly passed. I knew there was no way I could sit there and waste the day just staring. My body was way too wound up for that, like any sound outside the door was going to make me burst.

Several times I thought about just running.

How would he stop me from leaving? There was no way he would be able to find me if I just _ left _.

But this wasn't just anyone I was talking about. Even if it didn't seem possible, I couldn't risk it. Another thought that occurred to me was that I could stay within the city but keep moving. I could get in a cab and drive it from one side of the city to the next, always stay on the move. It wasn't a good plan, but it felt better than just sitting here.

Sitting here was going to drive me crazy.

I wonder if the housekeepers would let me help them clean for the day, just to occupy my hands and do _ something _!

In the end, I opted to take a long, scalding hot shower. I hadn't thought to bring my shampoo or soap but for some reason, I had grabbed a razor and shaving cream. Thankfully there were the tiny soap bottles stocked on a tray in the corner of the vanity and I managed to get my hair as clean as possible. And for some reason, I shaved my legs.

Halfway finished with my left leg, I paused and stared down at my legs still covered in shaving cream. I realized that this was my routine for an actual date, even though it had been months since I had been on one. I would sit around the day of, trying to occupy the hours and eventually spend far too long in the shower preparing.

But this wasn't a date.

This was some kind of fucked up hostage situation. Even though he wasn't even near me, I still felt a hostage to his threats, to the fear he instilled in me.

I couldn't shave my legs for this. That was far too fucked up and I refused to do anything like this for him. I tossed the razor out onto the toilet seat and applied conditioner to my hair, rinsing off the soap and shaving cream from my legs. Was it worse that I let him control me yet again? What if he expected this of me?

He would get such a kick out of knowing I tried so hard to do the opposite of what he wanted of me and the last thing I wanted was to amuse him. I growled between clenched teeth and scrubbed the conditioner from my hair before snatching the razor once more. I shaved quickly, not caring at the tiny nicks I left around the curve of my knee or ankle, no matter how much it stung.

As I finished shaving my thighs, I stared down at my body, to the other patch of hair that I had been neglecting lately. I frowned and glanced at the razor. _ No _. I wasn't going to do that for him. Not that I was doing any of this for him. It was for me.

Just to be safe, I tossed the razor over the curtain rod and once again, rinsed the shaving cream off of my legs. By now the water was starting to grow cold and I knew I would no longer be able to hide there. I turned the faucet off and stepped out, listening for any sign that someone had come into the room beyond the bathroom. When all I could hear was the television echoing through the walls from the room next to mine, I stepped out and grabbed one of the towels sitting on the vanity.

With it wrapped around my chest, I poked my head out and looked around the room. Everything was exactly how I left it and I let out a small sigh. The butcher knife still sat on the counter of the sink, right next to where I had tossed the razor. Just knowing it was there, an arm's length away in case I needed it, helped calm my nerves a bit but not much.

I was still trembling, though it wasn't out of terror. It was just in anticipation. My entire body was ready for a fight that I didn't even know if I would face or not. And now that I was out of the shower, dressed in a pair of comfy shorts and a t-shirt, I had nothing to occupy my time, my hands, or my mind.

The vending machine trip I had taken the day before yielded a lot of snacks to choose from but I was starving for a warm meal. I stared at the small stack of potato chips and candy bars and knew it was better to eat the crap I had than to risk being seen taking a trip to snag some fast food. So I sat at the table, next to the noisy air conditioning unit, chewing my chips and watching the parking lot from a small slit in the yellowing curtains.

Several cars pulled in over the next hour or so that I sat there and each time I heard the familiar engine sounds, my back would tense and I would lean a little closer to the curtain to peek out. Each time it was typical people; a woman and a man who looked to be tourists (though they certainly picked a wrong time to visit the city); a businessman who looked as if he was smelling the worst fart ever, judging by the wrinkle in his nose; and a man who sat in his car for forty-five minutes.

He was the one who made me the most nervous. I took down his tag number and waited for him, wondering how long I should wait before calling the police. They said not to call back unless it was an emergency or if I had something to actually tell them. Was this something? Or was I being paranoid?

Eventually, the man got out and hurried around the building. It didn't make me feel any better to know he wasn't where I could see him.

What if Joker had spies? What if they had watched me leave my apartment Wednesday and knew exactly where I was?

No. That was ridiculous. Why would he go through such lengths just to torment me? Even though...he had already done exactly that.

Oh, god.

I was fucked.

I paced the length of the room, any spare space not covered in furniture, for the rest of the day. By sundown, I armed myself with my trusty butcher knife in one hand while I had the thumbnail of my other hand between my teeth. I chewed it until it hurt and after that, I moved onto my next finger. None of my nails were safe today.

Once the sun had completely set and the street lights in the parking lot came to life, I took my place at the front door with my eye peering right into the peephole. I didn't care if I had to stand there all night. I wasn't going to let anyone have the upper hand on me this time. Time ticked by as slowly as it had all day, with the seconds stretching into hours and still, I stood.

Anytime someone walked by the door, my fingers would clench tighter around the handle of the knife and I would hold my breath. It was close to eight before I saw another housekeeper. She was different than the one I had seen earlier that day, but that wasn't exactly suspicious.

What _ was _suspicious was the fact that she stopped right outside my door and stared up at it. I held my breath until my lungs ached and clamped my bottom lip between my teeth until I could taste the bitterness of blood. What was she doing? Could she see me?

After a moment, she turned and went back the way she came and though I was still trembling with anxiety, I let my shoulders relax. Maybe she was confused. Maybe it wasn't anything sinister like my mind immediately went to. I was being overly paranoid.

And all for what? There very well could be nothing coming for me. No sinister plans, no nefarious villain coming to sweep me out of my hiding spot to torment me. This could have been his plan all along. Terrorize me into living in fear, just like the rest of the city; a punishment for going to the police after he left his card on my nightstand.

I hoped all of this was true, but a small part of me, a part that I would _ never _ admit to, would be almost...offended if he didn't try something. At the very least, he could--

Through the peephole, the woman returned and I gripped the knife harder, moving closer to the glass. She looked up at the door and I stood on my tiptoes to look down at whatever she was holding. The little white card, the same size as a credit card, made my eyes go wide and I sucked in a breath.

It was a key card to get into my room.

Didn't they have to announce they were coming in? That's what the other woman did. I had to say something to her.

I swallowed before opening my mouth. "No, thank you!"

She jumped at the sound of my voice so close to the door and her head whipped up to stare into the peephole. She was older than me by two decades easily. There were lines etched into her face and she held a little pudge around her jaws and cheeks. Her eyebrows were pinched into a frown and after a moment with the both of us standing there, staring at one another through the glass of the peephole, she lowered her head and sighed.

"I'm...I'm sorry," she said quietly, but loud enough for me to hear it. Her tone, so torn and so desperate, would haunt me for months.

My eyes went wide at the card as she reached up and slid it into the lock. The handle beeped and I shoved myself away from the door.

Fuck!

What was I going to do?

My fight or flight instincts were starting to kick in, jumping my pulse up and making me frantically look around. The door opened behind me but the chain caught, stopping her from entering the room but by that time I was already dropping in the narrow space between the bed and the wall. There was no room to slid in beneath the bed and I cursed quietly, trying to lower myself as far as I could into the floor.

What I wouldn't give for it to open up and swallow me whole at that moment.

I could hear voices from outside and I held my breath, squeezing my eyes shut. There were two males and a female who I was guessing was the maid. She was struggling to say something, more than likely to get them to stop, but it was pointless. The chain snapped with a metallic ping and the doorknob hit the wall behind it, making me flinch.

I stared down at the tip of the knife digging into the fibers of the carpet. My mind was oddly calm. I knew that I was about to be attacked, possibly dragged out of here by my hair, but I could only see what I needed to do to protect myself. I would stab whoever I needed to.

The sound of heavy footsteps thumping over the carpet echoed through my ears and I took a breath. I saw the tip of the boots before anything else and the guy must not have been expecting me. Though his pants weren't that garish purple I had been expecting, I imagined they were as I sat up on my knees, the knife slicing down through the air as I did so.

The blade sunk into the thick muscles of his thigh and didn't stop until it hit bone, jarring my hand so suddenly I let go of the handle. I whipped my head up to stare into a man's face. His mouth opened and he stumbled back as a scream ripped through the room. He held the handle of the knife as blood seeped out from the edges of the blade and his eyes bore right into mine with a fury I had never seen on anyone's face before.

For a moment, just a lightning-quick second, I had the horrifying thought that I'd stabbed an innocent person, that it was just a maintenance man coming to check on me and my mouth dropped open. An apology was on my lips but I never had the chance to utter a sound.

The butt of a shotgun connected with my jaw with such force I felt the skin break. Stars exploded across my vision and I spun in the small space I had been hiding in. The rough paint on the wall scraped against my shoulder as I went down and the only thought circling my head was how stupid I had been. I hadn't even checked to see if anyone else was coming in behind the first guy. 

My head was swimming and pain radiated from my jaw out across my body. The guy with the knife still wedged in his upper thigh was hissing and panting while the other one stepped over my head. I blinked my eyes open, staring into the bathroom. The fibers of the carpet tickled my forehead and I wondered if the feeling of something dripping down my face was blood or if I was imagining it while I slowly bobbed in and out of a daze.

"Shit," the guy above me said. "That looks bad."

"No shit! Its fucking deep, man. I-I think I need to go to the hospital." 

For a moment, they paused and I could faintly hear the second guy curse beneath his breath again. I lifted my head and ignored the tilt of the room as I did so. He was wearing brown work boots, similar to what a construction worker would wear and I knew if he kicked me with those, I'd be out for good. But I couldn't just sit there and let them do this. 

Shakily, I pushed off the floor enough that I could see over the bed. The door to my room was wide open and beyond that, the parking lot was dark. If I wanted to survive this, I had to run. No more fighting. 

I scrambled over the corner of the bed and managed to find my feet back on the floor, back on the rough carpet. I didn't get very far. A hand snatched me by the hair, fingers twisted at the damp strands so hard I could almost hear them rip out if my scalp. I cried out as the guy wrenched me back and tossed me back onto the mattress. Even through my hazy vision and tears burning the corner of my eyelids, I got a good look at him. 

He was the same guy that had been leering at me in the van that day Joker had snatched me from the alley. Seeing him now, so close and with his gaze still lecherous across me, I felt sick. Before I could try to make another run for it, he turned the shotgun in his arms around and pointed it right at my face. 

"Don't make me decorate this room with your brains. Because I will."

I nodded. I believed him. 

He took one hand away from the barrel of the gun and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a cell phone. In the corner directly behind him, the guy I had stabbed was glaring at me. He was sitting, kind of wedged really, between the wall and the television stand. The front of his pants was soaked with blood and it was starting to drip onto the carpet. 

"Get in here," the guy with the gun said into the phone. "She stabbed Kenny." 

Without another word, he ended the call and returned his hand to the gun. My eyes moved from the barrel to his face and out of the corner of my eye, I could still see the parking lot beyond the door. Someone had to be out there. They'd see this happening and they would come to help me. 

The guy stepped closer to me, pressing the cold metal of the gun to my forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and tried to keep myself from fainting out of terror. It was strange how much different I felt with these two men than I did when it was just the Joker and I alone. As horrified as I had been to be alone with him, this felt worse somehow. I didn't understand it and the thought, mixed with the feel of the metal on my skin and the sounds from the guy still wedged between the wall and television stand made me feel sick to my stomach. 

If they kept me like this for much longer, I was going to throw up all the vending machine snacks I had forced myself to eat earlier. 

"What the fuck happened?" An all new voice sounded from the doorway and I opened my eyes with a sharp gasp. The shotgun fell away from my face and my body trembled hard as it desperately tried to relax. The new guy coming into the room looked pissed, a bit surprised, and he pointed a finger at the man who had put the gun to my head. "This was supposed to be simple. Grab the girl and get the hell out!"

"How was I supposed to know she had a knife?"

They both turned to face the guy, now white as a ghost and shaking as well, before the new guy turned to me. He pocketed his gun and reached down to snatch me by the elbow. I lifted off the bed and the room swam around me. The dizziness was still lingering in my head after being hit and it did little to help the roll of sickness through my stomach. 

"Get him. We'll deal with that after we deliver the package."

Package?

Was that me?

The guy brought both of my hands behind my back to tie them together and the force of it sent pain shooting up my shoulder. My bones weren't used to these angles and no matter how much I tried to wrench free of his grasp, he held tight. Before he could move me toward the open door, a strip of fabric fell over my face and caught right between my lips. It was tied tight around my head and a sob bubbled up from my chest.

With no time to adjust to the sudden intrusions in my mouth and around my wrists, he shoved me out the door and across the narrow lot where a van sat waiting. The windows were blacked out and whatever logo had once been painted on the side was scrubbed away. The door slid open and my eyes went wide, terror gripping me by the spine and squeezing me tightly. I was expecting to see that painted, scarred face waiting for me inside the van, but it was empty. 

The guy at my back shoved me headfirst into the van and I slid across the dingy, metal floor until I toppled over onto my side right behind the driver's seat. Behind me, they dumped the wounded guy and all crawled in before sliding the door shut. The lights from the motel and parking lot were blocked and for a moment, I stared into the darkness. 

I felt the guy crawl over my legs to find the driver's seat and a moment later, the engine came to life. The van peeled out of the spot with a quick squeal of tires and the guy I had stabbed gave a sharp hiss of pain. 

"Can you at least _ try _ not to drive like an asshole?" 

"We're already late," the driver snapped, taking a left sharply and sending me sliding to the opposite side of the van. "You really wanna keep Joker waiting?"

The sound of his name made an involuntary groan rise from my chest and I quickly tried to swallow it down. I didn't want any of these assholes knowing I was scared or nervous to be back in front of their boss. But it's not like they wouldn't understand. From the way the three of them shut their mouths at that, it was easy to see they felt the same way about him. 

How had no one stood up to him yet? How had he not pissed off the right person who could end this?

A boot kicked out and hit the side of my leg, making me whip my head around to stare at the two men who were thrown in the back of the van with me. The injured one was still pale and looked to be struggling to keep his bleeding steady. But it was the other one that pulled my attention. 

He sat on a toolbox, leaned over with his elbows on his knees and his eyes narrowed into slits, staring right into me. The greasy hair on top of his head was slicked back, making his face appear more snake-like. In the shadows of the van, the angles of his face were too sharp. He definitely looked like a guy I would want to avoid, even in the daylight. 

"I remember you," he said. 

I wanted to roll my eyes and tell him it hadn't been that long since we had been in a van together the first time and him remembering me wasn’t that much of a feat. The gag around my mouth prevented me from saying anything, leaving me with the only option of glaring at him. He laughed and reached over. I tried to slide away from him but couldn't fast enough. His fingers curled around my ankle and his thumb brushed quick circles on the inside of my leg. My eyes went wide as he slid his hand further up my leg and I hated myself for shaving them. 

"Hey!" A voice from the front seat made both of us whirl around to stare at the driver. He was glaring at the greasy guy from the rearview mirror. "You think that's a good idea?" 

"Don't see why not."

"It'll be your head if you touch Joker's girl, I guarantee."

I didn't know what was worse; being called a _ package _ or them referring to me as his _ girl _ . What the hell did that mean? Did he... _ like _me? Did he talk about me like that to his men? 

If anything, I was thankful that the driver's threats seem to work. The greasy guy pulled his hand away from me and I pulled my legs as close as I could to myself. Still, I never took my eyes off the guy. If he tried to touch me again, I'd kick him. I doubt it would do much good seeing as how I was completely barefoot and he was much larger than I was, but the thought of him touching me again disgusted me.

All too soon, the van lurched to a stop and I slid along the floor until my shoulder slammed into the back of the driver's seat. I was barely able to sit up before a pair of hands grabbed my elbows and hauled me backward out of the van. My heels hit the concrete hard and I winced as the guy behind me held me up until I could stand on my own.

I blinked and took a look around at my surroundings. We had stopped inside a garage, possibly underground judging by the echo that the slamming doors made. It was empty aside from two other vans and an SUV parked a few spaces down. For some reason, I knew he was in one of those vehicles. I could just feel it deep inside my bones.

I could practically feel him already staring at me and no matter how much I tried to dig my heels in the grease-stained concrete, the man at my back pulled me along. Once we stopped near the other van, two other guys stepped out. They were both armed and they nodded to the van we had just left. 

"Kenny's hurt bad. She managed to stab him in the thigh." I didn't like how proud I felt about that. "He's bleeding out." 

One of the new guys nodded and took over, looping his hand around my elbow to drag me toward the SUV. Even though the windows were tinted impossibly dark, I stared into them and could practically feel his eyes watching me as we drew closer. They followed me, bore into me and watched as the guy opened the door with one hand and shoved me forward with the other.

I managed to stumble into the backseat without falling into the lap of the man already sitting inside. The sight of his garish, purple pinstripe suit made me recoil against the window and I lifted my head to stare at him once and for all. 

So, he'd found me after all. No amount of preparation and hiding and planning had saved me in the end. And judging by the look on his face, he wasn't exactly pleased with what I had done. 

The makeup was just as haphazardly applied to his face as always, with the black circling his eyes and making them look twice as dark. He smacked his lips and without signaling to the driver, the SUV pulled out of the space and left the others behind. I turned to stare out the window, watching several men pull the injured guy out of the back of the van. As fucked up as what he was involved in was, I didn't want him to die. Not just because I didn't want it hanging over my head, but I genuinely didn't believe I deserved to be the one to take his life. Or anyone else's for that matter.

With another smack of his lips, I turned back to face Joker and swallowed the saliva pooling up in my mouth behind the gag. It was uncomfortable and the taste of the fabric was starting to dry my tongue out. He was still staring at me in the same way; eyes slightly narrowed, disappointment written quite clearly across his face. He reached over and slipped a single gloved finger between my cheek and the gag around my face. It pulled free and I winced from the sting on my jaw from where I had been hit. 

Joker noticed it as well and brushed his thumb across it before shrugging as if I had gotten what I deserved for trying to run from him. I waited for a few breaths for him to say something to me, for him to say something twisted that would make my blood curl, but he remained quiet. All he did was stare through the windshield of the car, swaying this way and that with each turn of the wheel.

A few times I noticed him suck his bottom lip into his mouth before licking the corners. I knew he could feel me staring at him, though he didn’t react to me at all. Was this what he wanted me for? To sit beside him and take a drive around the city? 

With a roll of my eyes, I turned away from him and faced the window. It wasn’t exactly comfortable with my arms still tied behind my back, but I wasn’t about to ask him to help me out. I didn’t want him to think I needed him at all. 

Why the hell was he so quiet? All the other times we had seen one another, I couldn’t shut him up. And now he was doing this. It was maddening and if he was trying to be annoying, he was succeeding. I opened my mouth and turned to face him, wanting nothing more than to tell him that I wish it had been him to walk into that motel room first. I wish _ he _ had been the one to face my wrath instead of the random henchman.

But I didn’t say any of it. I snapped my lips shut again and turned away. He wouldn’t have reacted anyway. This apparently was the game he was playing tonight, trying to coax me out of my terror and into anger so that he could lash out at me properly. Well, I wasn’t falling for it. He wasn’t going to corner me again, wasn’t going to get the upper hand this time.

I was tired of being his little pawn, his package to whisk me around the city at his convenience. At this point, my sanity was to the brink of collapsing and if he planned to kill me...well, I was willing to accept that. Having him attack me was better than this.

Even the two men in the front seat of the SUV were silent. There were no directions, no instructions. Just quiet driving through parts of Gotham I had never been before. The streets on this side of town were a little dingy than the streets I frequented. Trash piled up on the corners, overflowing in the cans, and the buildings all looked a little worse for wear.

We weren’t in the Narrows yet, but we were close. I had never been before. I had always been told to avoid it if possible and with my lack of funds and friends, I never had a reason. After what had happened last year, I didn’t exactly want a reason to cross into this part of Gotham. 

The SUV took a left and a few liquor stores were open ahead and a small Italian bistro sat on the corner to the left. I was surprised when we pulled to a stop outside of it. My eyes widened at the place. It looked old as if it had been in business for several decades. There was a neon ‘open’ sign in the front window and I could see red and white checkered tablecloths covering the tables inside.

Wait.

So, this _ was _ an actual date?

I slowly pulled my attention away from the window to face Joker again and sucked in a breath once I did. He was no longer looking out the windshield. His dark gaze was focused on me and in the shadows of the car, the sight of his face was...I didn’t know how to describe it. Frightening, yes, but there was something else, something strange in the way he was looking at me. It made me swallow tightly and whatever question that I had been wanting to ask him completely slipped out of my mind. 

My mouth had gone dry as if I were still gagging on the strip of fabric, and I was so caught up in the look in his eyes that I didn’t notice the headlights pulling up in front of us until it was nearly blinding. The van from the garage, or one exactly like it, stopped beside the curb and I turned to look at it through the windshield. Three men climbed out of it and as if on cue, the two men in the front seat of the SUV did the same. 

I waited, expecting the door beside me to open up where I would be yet again, hauled out onto the sidewalk, but while four men walked into the bistro, one stayed behind. Which meant, I was alone with Joker.

The feel of leather gloves at my wrists made me start and I glanced over my shoulder. Joker was leaning toward me, making quick work of the knots keeping me bound. My joints were crying out in joy but every muscle in my body had grown tense for an all new reason. The last time he had been this close to me, he was backing me against the wall...and the time before that was when he had pulled me into his lap and I had felt--

The knots came free and I quickly pulled my arms around to the front, rubbing at the tender spots across my wrist. I ducked my head but still turned back to face him with warmth flooding my face. “Thank you,” I said quietly, my voice barely a whisper.

Before I could look up into his face again, he took me by the hand and pulled me across the seat. I slid easily over the leather and my breath caught in the back of my throat. It was alarming how strong he was. He spun me until my back pressed against him and I could feel how hot he was. 

He snatched my hand and opened my palm and I blinked down through a thin curtain of my hair to where he had a hold of me. “I just want you to know,” he whispered at my ear, making my eyes shut tight and my skin ripple with chills. “This wasn’t what I wanted. _ This _ was what I thought we could avoid, _ Natalie _.” 

_ Fuck _.

There were no other thoughts aside from that in my head.

Something strange met my palm and Joker closed my fingers around it. It was awkward to hold and beneath my middle finger, I could feel a trigger of some kind. It was different that the kind on a gun, which I had only felt because of him. This was more like a button, a switch that I was now squeezing. 

When I opened my eyes, I looked down at the device and my brows came together in confusion. It looked like pieces of different electronics pieced together. A wire ran from the trigger beneath my finger to the top of the device and I gasped. Oh, my _ God _. 

It was a detonation device.

My hands immediately trembled and I let out a pathetic whimper that didn’t match the self assurance I felt only moments ago on the drive over. Before I could release my hold on it, his hands closed around mine once again and the warmth of his breath blew a few strands of hair over my earlobe, making me duck away. 

“Look at me,” he snarled, reaching around to turn my face toward him. I forced my eyes open and blinked up at him. “I gave you a choice and you chose wrong and now _ I _ have no other _ choice _ but to make you face the consequences. Understand? Of course you do. Now--” he paused again and squeezed his hand around mine again, making me glance down at the device we both held. “ _ This _ little _ contraption _isn’t rigged for you, or anyone you know really. Unless you happen to know a sweet old lady and her two grandchildren who are asleep in the building across the street.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“Begging again? _Oh,_ _Natalie,_” the sound of my name filled his mouth and I felt a shudder roll down my body. “If only you knew how much I liked that.”

He leaned around me and pulled the handle, making the door pop open. With my hand still gripped in his, he shoved me forward until we were both standing on the sidewalk. The man who had stayed behind shut the door behind me and Joker spun me around to face him. By now the trembling had spread through the rest of my body and my knees were practically liquid by now. 

“Now,” Joker smacked his lips and I caught sight of his tongue. “I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you what happens if you let go of that button, correct?”

I stared at him, wishing I could think of something brave to say. I wished I could try to fight. In the end, he wasn’t feeling patient enough to wait for me to build up the courage. His fingers snapped in front of my face and I jumped, closing my eyes as my head nodded quickly.

“Good. You like Italian?” He asked, leaning toward me with a smile stretching his crooked scars. Again, I could only nod and he let go of my hand that still held onto the device. My fingers, cold now from the sudden absence of his warmth, remained squeezed around it and I felt tears burning the corner of my eyes. 

At my back, he placed his hand along the line where my shorts were resting and with a gentle push, I stepped toward the restaurant. Beyond the windows I could see the other men who had gone on ahead of us. They were armed and pointing their guns at someone sitting at a table in the center of the dining area. 

Apparently Joker liked to kill two birds with one stone when he took a girl out, mixing business with pleasure. I just hated that _ I _ had found myself caught up in one of those things and I didn’t know which was worse. 

But I had a feeling he was going to show me tonight.

* * *


	8. Twisted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalie is face to face with how twisted Joker can be.

* * *

_I'm uncontrollable, emotional, chaotically proportional_   
_I'm visceral, reloadable_   
_I'm crazy_

* * *

It’s a strange feeling, seeing your life flash before your eyes. And it’s especially strange when it happens in a way that lets you see exactly what you did wrong to lead you to the fucked up place that you’d find yourself in currently. Which was what happened to me as I was led into the quaint little bistro that, under any other circumstance, would have been quite charming. 

The tables were covered in red and white checkered tablecloths and the chairs were red vinyl with a metal back. Totally cliche but it worked. Very old school Gotham and despite the fact that I was still clutching a detonation device rigged to blow the building across the street, I found thinking about the decor was much easier. 

My life hadn’t yet flashed before my eyes but I couldn’t help but think back to the last day I had worked a proper, full-time job. It was a secretary position at a Construction company that handled several accounts throughout the state. The men I worked for were chauvinistic, the construction workers constantly harassed me for dates, and the pay was absolute shit. I had happily handed in my two-week notice and walked out with my head held high on my last day.

What an idiot I had been. 

That was the single stupid decision that led me here. I had met Abby through that job when she worked as a temp in our sister location downtown. We had both toasted one another leaving that job behind and laughed. We had _laughed_, saying we might not have jobs, but we would never have to face something as shitty as that job.

How could I have known this would be what that decision would lead to? How was I supposed to know that several months after slapping my two-week notice on my boss’ desk that I would be caught up in the Joker’s schemes, that I’d have his hand at my back as he walked us into that little Italian bistro as if we were on our first date? God, in a fucked up way, we kind of were.

I didn’t know how to actually feel about that and before I had time to think _anything_, I finally noticed the man sitting at one of the tables near the back of the dining area. His lip was split with a drop of blood hanging out of it and the look in his eye as he watched Joker step near was murderous. My eyes darted to the men standing guard near the kitchen door, their guns held against their chest in a display of intimidation.

Sitting in a chair behind the man with the busted lip was a woman. The look on her face was a mix of worry, panic, and what a small animal would look like if it were being cornered. She wanted to run. I felt the exact same way and wondered if my face mirrored hers. 

Beside me, a chair pulled away from the table, the legs scraping noisily over the floor and I jumped. My finger twitched but didn’t lift up from the trigger in my palm. I squeezed as if my life depended on it and knowing Joker, it very well could.

He had told me it would trigger in the building across the street, killing innocent people, but could I really believe a guy who kidnapped me out of my hotel room while I was trying to hide from him? 

His hand moved from my back to my elbow and he quickly pulled until I was sitting in the chair. The vinyl seat was cold against the back of my legs and for a brief moment, it stole my breath away. From my new position, I was facing the woman but she didn’t look at me. Her eyes darted from the man still seething quietly at my left to Joker who took a moment to unbutton his suit jacket before taking a seat. Despite the dim lighting, I could see just how dilated her pupils were and I felt my eyebrows lift.

She was high. 

I had never smoked, snorted, or taken anything more than the occasional anxiety pill or a little bit of weed and now, I never would. Even if I lived through this, the woman across from me, stuck between her high and the situation she’d found herself in, was a walking after-school PSA about the dangers of doing drugs. 

How bizarre that commercial would be. ‘This is your brain...and this is your brain after smoking crack and accidentally finding yourself in the presence of a domestic terrorist wearing clown face.’

“Well, well, _ well_,” the voice jerked me out of my thoughts and I squeezed my fingers tighter around the device. “Isn’t this a _ cozy _ situation we’ve found ourselves in.” 

Joker unbuttoned the jacket of his suit and pushed it back as he lowered himself into the chair next to mine. The woman’s eyes darted back and forth between him and the man with the busted lip and I wondered if she had even noticed me yet. When it was clear that neither of them was going to speak, Joker smacked his lips and leaned forward to lay his arms over the table.

“I suppose I should introduce myself--”

“I know who you are,” the man said, making me turn my head to look at him. The look on his face hadn’t shifted at all and I knew if he had the chance, he was going to try to kill Joker. And possibly me as well. Hopefully, he would see that I’m just an innocent bystander in all of this. 

“Oh.” There was so much humor in that little one-syllable word that it made me cut my eyes back to Joker. I wasn’t surprised to find him smiling. He lifted his eyebrows and sat back in the chair. “I’m flattered. But I, unfortunately, cannot say the same for you. Which strikes me as _ odd_, seeing as how you’ve taken _ quite _ the interest in my work.”

The man snorted and reached up to wipe the drop of blood from his chin. “Your work,” he repeated with a shake of his head. “I’m not interested in your _ work _.”

“I heard through the grapevine that _you’ve _got some _big _\--” Joker held both of his hands out, mimicking an explosion and my fingers tightened over the trigger. “--ideas for improvements. Did I hear right?”

When silence was his answer, Joker sighed and leaned forward, glancing at the woman sitting there, chewing her cracked fingernails down to the quick. I could see his eyes skate down her body and I glanced to do the same, taking in the sight of her mini skirt and fishnet stockings for the first time. I didn’t want to be too judgemental but my first thought was that she was a prostitute. 

“Listen, Nico,” Joker said with a quick flick of his tongue, finally pulling his eyes away from her to find the man once again. “I’m a reasonable guy.” I quickly swallowed back my scoff and ducked my head to avoid the look he sent my way. “_Some _people may not think so, but I am. If you’ve got suggestions to make things run a bit more _smoothly_, then I want to hear them. That’s what you’ve been telling your little _ pal Sal_, isn’t it?”

“Sal is my cousin. He’s family.” I looked up at the man. “You think I’m gonna sit by and let him _ruin _everything he’s built because of some fucking _clown_? No. _ Fuck you _.”

This time, the silence that stretched through the room was full of tension and I could practically feel the heat of it rolling off Joker. It made sweat build between my legs and the vinyl seat beneath me and I shifted uncomfortably. Across the table from me, the woman was bouncing her leg and her eyes were wide and on me. I looked away from her and found myself turning to Joker. Slowly, his mouth spread into a smile that in no way reflected the look of fury burning across his eyes. 

“You know, I never had much of a family. Always fighting, always screaming and _violent_. So forgive me if I don’t understand this little _ blood bond _ between you and Sal. Especially considering the both of you aren’t exactly _ saints _\--”

Nico let out a short laugh. “The Maroni’s don’t fuck each other over. So whatever you plan to do to me, why don’t you just get it over with. You kill me and Sal is out.”

“I respect that.” Joker nodded and wagged his finger at him, leaning forward. “I admire a man who can act bravely in the face of his own _violent death_. But you see, what I _ don’t _admire, is people _scheming _behind my back. So, before you die, I want you to tell me _ exactly _ what you told our dear, old _ Sally _.”

“Fuck you.”

“_That’s _ what you told him?” Joker scoffed and turned to look at me with an amused look on his face as his tongue flicked along the corner of his lips. He smirked and for some unknown reason that I will never be able to fathom, the muscles in my face twitched to return the smile. I quickly pursed my lips to keep them from curling up and he faced Nico once more. He opened his mouth to make another sarcastic remark but never had the chance.

In a flash, Nico shoved the table toward the Joker and I quickly slid my chair away as the two men jumped to their feet. I held the device close to my chest and was surprised by how agile Joker could be in all the layers of his suit. He was out of his chair, kicking it back with his heel while steering the table to the side away from us. 

The two men standing guard rushed forward and in the few split seconds he had, Nico pulled out a switchblade from the inside of his sock. The short blade was buried into the neck of one of the gunmen before I could even see it coming and the sight of the blood had the prostitute screaming. 

She scrambled over to another table and I looked to the door behind us. It wouldn’t take long to reach it. I could be out and running away in a matter of seconds. Sure, I would have to fight through the men waiting outside but I should at least _try_.

With a thud, Nico let out a grunt and he hit the floor at my feet, pulling my attention back to the fight. The prostitute was still screaming, blood was still pouring out of the guy’s neck, and I was still just standing there, frozen to the spot and helpless to do anything at all. Joker shook his head and moved to where Nico now laid on the tile. He had a new cut along his eyebrow from where the guard had knocked the butt of his gun into his head, but he was already starting to sit up.

“Hey!” The guard yelled, turning to the woman who had cornered herself into one of the booths. “Shut up!”

Joker lowered himself into a squat and slapped Nico’s jaws a few times, making the man glare up at him. He let out a short, peal of laughter. “You really think that was gonna work? Where were you going to go, hmm?” 

My throat clenched as those words echoed through my head. It was almost the same thing he had told me once when he had cornered me in my apartment. Even now, a week later, I could practically feel the warmth of his breath against the back of my ear as he said it. Goosebumps rolled down my arms and legs and I watched him stand back up. 

The guard scooped Nico off the floor and shoved him toward another one of the tables. He barely managed to catch himself and slid into one of the chairs. Joker paused to look at the gunman laying on the floor, blood pulsing out of his neck around the blade still jammed in his flesh. It was clear by the pallor of his face that he wasn’t going to make it. He was already sputtering and gasping for breath and without a second glance back, Joker moved to the new table where Nico sat.

He snapped his fingers at me and curled them. I wanted to be annoyed that he was calling me like a dog, but my feet were already carrying me across the tiles. I lowered myself back into the chair and started to look at Nico. The hand suddenly on my knee, however, made me turn the opposite way. 

I could feel the heat of his skin through his gloves and it immediately stole my breath away. My lips parted and I let my head fall forward so I could stare down at his hand. It wasn’t the first time he had touched me. Hell, his hands had been in more intimate places than this before but this was different. This was a gentle touch, reassuring almost as if to comfort me and it conflicted with all of the vile, horrible things he had done not only to me but anyone else who had ever come in contact with him.

I hated it. 

_ No. _

I hated that I _didn’t_. 

“It seems,” Joker said, pulling my attention to his face. I found him staring at me out of the corner of his eye and the look he was giving me did little to help me find my breath once more. He looked away from me and took his hand away all at once and I felt the air rush back into my lungs. “We all got off on the wrong foot, so why don’t we try this again, hmm? I’d like you to meet _Natalie_.”

My eyes widened and I glanced at Nico, catching his eyes as they darted to meet mine. It was the first time he had even acknowledged me and the sudden attention on me had my stomach twisting into a dozen knots. 

Joker moved his hand to my chair and he pulled me closer to him. The sound of the legs scraping over the tiles made me flinch and a moment later, he gripped my wrist and lowered my hand to the table. “She’s got a little _something special _in her hands, right here. Do you know what it is?”

Nico didn’t answer but he looked down at the device I held. 

“I’ll assume you’ve got an idea. Now,” he smacked his lips and turned to look back at the front windows of the building, draping one arm over the back of his chair. “This neighborhood has been in your family for generations. There’s a Maroni parked in every building along this street and if I’m not _mistaken_, that one, _ right there _\--” He pointed to the one across the street and turned back to face Nico with a grin. “Is rather important to you, hmm?”

“_ Fuck you _.”

“So you’ve said before.” Joker turned to face the table and once again, took my wrist in his hands. “You can either die knowing your two daughters and mother are safe and sound in their beds right now, while their father chose to--_ ahem _ \-- _ partake _ in a little late night fun.” He gestured to the prostitute still sitting in the booth and she flinched. “Or, you can die while watching them blow into the sky.”

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

This was monstrous. He wouldn’t--_ couldn’t _\--be serious right now. Not even he was that heartless, was he? With wide eyes, I watched him hook a finger around my pinky and pry it away from the device. “No!” I tried to wrench my hand away but he held on tight.

“_ One _little piggie,” Joker said with a laugh that would haunt me for the rest of my life. His finger hooked around another one of mine and I struggled away from him again. 

“Nico, just tell him!” The prostitute cried, pulling herself to the edge of the booth. 

My ring finger was pulled away from the device and held down by Joker’s strong grip. He laughed again, making me shut my eyes tight. “_ Two _little piggies!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I turned to Nico and stared in disbelief. A father shouldn’t have even let it get this far! What kind of a monster was _he _? “Tell him what he wants to know!”

My middle finger slipped off the trigger easier than the last two. Sweat had already started to build along the inside of my palm and I wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. Not when he was somehow so strong. It was only my first finger left around the trigger and I could _not _be the only one standing between three innocent lives ending. “ _ Three _little piggies.”

Tears stung the back of my eyes and I gave up on trying to convince Nico to do the right thing. I looked up into the smeared, painted face beside me. He wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were narrowed and dark as they looked to the man across the table from him and I shook my head. “Please, don’t do this. They’re just _kids_! They don’t deserve this!”

To answer me, he curled his finger around my last remaining one and I let out a sob that made my entire chest ache. It felt as if my heart were caving in, pulling all of the air from my lungs. I sucked in a breath but it did little to ease the burn. 

Across from me, the woman hurried to the table and slapped her hand across Nico’s face. He turned away but never spoke. He didn’t have to. She faced Joker and lowered herself onto her knees, reaching to where our hands were still joined. She pulled at his wrist but it didn’t budge away from mine. “He told me their plan! They were gonna set you up!”

“Lauren, _ shut up! _” Nico found his voice once more but there was no stopping her now. She shook her head and scrambled away from his hands swiping at her. 

“At the docks, him and Sal. They were schemin' to ambush you, to kill you and take your share of the money!”

The tears I had been trying to hold back spilled over my eyelids and fell in fat drops down my cheeks as I blinked at her. Joker moved his eyes from Lauren’s face back to Nico and with a slow smile, his finger fell away from mine and I squeezed the trigger as hard as I could. A breath of relief left my lungs but the ache hadn’t lifted from my chest just yet. 

“Now, was that so hard?” He asked quietly, pulling me by the wrist once more. He tugged one of the wires connected to the top of the device and wrenched the whole thing out of my hand. I braced myself anyway, just in case he was lying and would blow the building up anyway. The explosion never came and I let out a trembling breath, my shoulders relaxing a bit.

My fingers were aching from being squeezed so tightly around the device for so long and I flexed them as I sat back in the chair. Lauren the prostitute let out a sob and fell back onto the floor, bringing her trembling hands to rake through her bleached hair. Joker and Nico, however, were still locked in a glare and I swallowed as I looked between them. 

I had never seen the look on his face before. It was terrifying. A completely new level of terrifying that I didn’t know could be reached. It made me shift in my chair and I watched as he licked his lips slowly, the red of his tongue so dark compared to the smear of red across his mouth. 

“I’m a man of my word,” he said, his voice deep and gravely. I swallowed tightly, knowing nothing good ever came after hearing him speak like that. 

Time slowed and I could hear each beat of my heart through my ears as I turned to face Nico once more. He was still glaring at the man across from him, his face twisted in fury but it was the man behind him that drew my attention. The last gunmen left standing behind the table we all sat around stepped forward. I watched him draw a pistol out from the holster at his side and my lips parted as he aimed it right at the back of Nico’s head. I never got a chance to warn him.

The shot was louder than anything I’d ever heard before and my entire body jumped. A hole erupted from right above Nico’s ear and I felt the warm splatters of his blood spray across the left side of my face. He slumped over and hit the ground beside my chair and I stared down at the puddle of blood forming a halo around his head. 

Lauren was screaming again and I could slowly hear it behind the ringing still left in my ears. The gunman turned toward her and I blinked down at the blood splatters across my body. It stained the T-shirt I wore and a few flecks had landed on my legs. I wanted to scream as loudly as Lauren, wanted to run as far away as I could, wanted to hide and cower away. But I couldn’t do anything except sit there and stare down at the mess Nico’s blood had made on me.

A gloved hand curled around my elbow and pulled me to my feet, turning me so I was now staring at the hexagonal pattern on Joker’s shirt collar. He lifted something to my face but I closed my eyes before I could see what it was. The feel of one of the cloth napkins dragging across my jaw wasn’t exactly what I expected. 

Slowly, I opened my eyes and spotted the guard dragging Nico’s body toward the other one laying at the back of the dining room. I couldn’t help wondering what they were going to do with the bodies--possibly dump them at the docks? When my eyes moved back up to meet Joker’s, the guard was moving toward Lauren. She was still cowering against the booth, halfway between hyperventilating and fainting altogether. 

“Don’t kill her,” I said quietly, making his eyebrows lift in surprise. He turned to glance over his shoulder before facing me once again. “Please?”

He made a humming sound in the back of his throat and abandoned his attempt to clean the blood from my face. He tossed the napkin onto the table and reached up to brush his thumb across my cheek. I wasn’t exactly sure _how _ , but despite the prostitute, the gunman, and the two dead bodies lying on the floor, it felt as if he and I were the only two people in the room. Hell, possibly the _world _at that moment.

It felt so similar to the very first time I had seen him, standing in Bruce Wayne’s penthouse, watching him brush drops of champagne away from my face. I felt just as scared now as I had then, possibly more so, and he smelled exactly the same, penetrating my senses and not leaving much room to smell much else. So much was different though. I wasn’t afraid of him possibly killing me. That fear wasn’t gone, of course; it was always in the back of my head, but now…

I was more afraid of him kissing me. 

And I was terrified of the realization that in some cosmically fucked up way...I _ wanted _him to. In the last hour, I had been dragged out of my hotel room, thrown into the back of a van, scared half to death, and had nearly been an accomplice to the murder of three innocent people all because of _one _person. This man standing before me, his hand wiping away drops of blood from the man he had murdered, was the sole reason behind all of the terror I had been through and yet…I found myself glancing at his lips, wondering what it would feel like.

Before anything could happen, _thankfully_, Joker turned on his heel and clucked his tongue, making the gunmen stop moving toward Lauren. She was peeking up at him through the spaces between her fingers and he raised an eyebrow to his boss. 

“I _ suppose_, even a whore has her uses.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile before taking my wrist once more and pulling me to the door. I didn’t know exactly if that meant he wasn’t going to kill her or not, but with a glance back at the dining room, I was glad to see the gunman sigh and secure his pistol at his side once more. 

Back out into the night, Joker paused at the top of the steps leading into the bistro and took a deep breath. He curled his lip, as if he were disappointed in the lack of smoke and ash on the fresh air, and turned his face to me as his tongue traced his top lip. “Shall we?”

“Shall we...what?” The tremor in my voice was frustrating, but I was still in too much shock to care.

Joker took a step down and I followed him on autopilot, watching the two men waiting by the curb move toward the front doors of the SUV we had arrived in. As the back opened for me and Joker stepped aside to let me in, I glanced up at him with a frown. 

Apparently, our evening wasn’t over just yet. 

He pulled me closer to him, the heat of his body radiating down my side, and as he brushed the hair from my face, he leaned toward me. His breath on the shell of my ear made me gasp and I reached out to grip the door beside me to keep my legs from giving out. “You and I have some _ unfinished _ business.” 

I swallowed the whimper that threatened to escape my mouth and slowly climbed into the back seat. Running away was impossible now. I may as well accept my fate, watch my pathetic life flicker before my eyes, and let whatever was going to happen, happen. 

The door shut behind him and I let my head fall back against the seat, half out of frustration and half from exhaustion. I stared out of the dark tinted windows and watched the street lamps pass by. I focused on the lights, counting them as we drove by. Focusing on anything else, on the look of Nico’s eyes going blank and lifeless would have been too much for me to handle right now. I was still having trouble forgetting Lauren’s screaming or the multiple tense moments I had somehow lived through the past hour.

And just as surprising as it had been in the restaurant, the feel of Joker’s hand on my knee snapped me from my thoughts and I lifted my head. His hand was resting there, just above my knee as if I were a part of the seat that he had let his hand fall onto. Neither of us moved, stuck in the sudden limbo of what he was doing and I blinked a few times to make sure I wasn't imagining it. He curled his fingers a bit, digging them into the flesh on the inside of my leg and while I didn’t want to look away, I could feel him staring at me. As exhausted and as confused as I was at that moment, I needed to see the look in his eyes. 

Swallowing down my fear, I turned and looked up at him and if I had any breath in my lungs at that moment, it would have left me in a single puff of air. He was staring at me like he wanted to devour me. There was a hunger in his gaze that I had never seen on a person and it terrified me. It was the only thing that filled his dark eyes, pushing back all of the chaotic evil I usually saw there. And somehow, this was worse.

I felt as if I were shrinking beneath his gaze, entranced by it, sucked into the pull of it and I wouldn't escape no matter how much I tried. When his hand slid higher up my thigh, my lips parted in a quick exhale that drew his attention down to my mouth. How was it possible that even through leather, I could feel the warmth of his palm? It left me feeling feverish and sweat was already starting to make my shirt stick to the small of my back.

All this time, I had wondered if he wanted to kill me or fuck me, and now that I was finding the answer, I wasn’t sure it was the one I preferred. 

His fingers squeezed around my thigh and I sucked in a sharp breath. My body betrayed the disgust I wish I felt. I was angry with myself for how easily I gave into this. I let my head fall back once again and stared up at the ceiling of the car, watching the passing street lights momentarily light the interior before fading away. My own hands dug into the leather seat beneath me and I pursed my lips, turning away from him.

I couldn’t like this. I couldn’t _want _this--whatever it was. Maybe it was a strange symptom of shock, I didn't know. All I knew was it was wrong and exactly what he wanted from me and the last thing I wanted was to give into him. But god it was disturbing how good it felt to be touched like this by him. It had been a while since I had been touched by anyone but even then, it didn't have this level of intensity. I shouldn’t be acting like _this _ though. It was _wrong_ on every single level! He had murdered people, nearly murdered children, and he would more than likely kill me as well and I was giving into him like some wanton whore.

I was disgusted with myself. 

Mustering up the last ounce of courage and energy I could, I shoved his hand away and slid as far as I could against the opposite side of the car. I refused to look at him this time. I didn’t care what I’d find behind his gaze. I didn’t want to see it. 

I just wanted to go home. 

I wanted to go back to my life before I ever quit that stupid job and found this fucked up path I had stumbled upon. 

The familiar sting of tears to the back of my eyelids was annoying. I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing he caused them. He didn’t really. _ I _ did. My stupidity, my failures, my poor decisions, and my fucked up head caused them. And mostly, the fact that there was some part of me that wished he was still touching me caused the tears to slip out and roll down my cheeks. I didn’t bother wiping them away.

They wouldn’t be the last tears I cried in his presence tonight.

* * *


	9. The Devil I Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it has certainly been a while. I had posted this chapter last night, but only for about ten minutes because I absolutely hated it and regretted posting it. I'm MUCH happier with this version...so if you happened to see that...then just wipe it out of your head lol! This is the real chapter 9!

* * *

_Baby, you're the devil I know _   
_Better than the devil I don't _   
_Maybe I could stop, but I won't _

* * *

The rest of the car ride had been short--far too short. I didn't recognize the part of town we were in. The buildings looked run down and derelict and each one we passed looked like the perfect place to dump a dead body that more than likely wouldn't be found for weeks. I couldn't help staring at them as the car rolled to a stop.

The sight of the one right outside the SUV made my stomach drop. It didn't look much different than the abandoned warehouses surrounding it but I knew it was. I could feel it deep in my gut. This was where they were taking me.

By the time I looked away from the window, Joker had already stepped out of the car and disappeared around the back. Was he coming to get me? Was he expecting me to just get out and follow him?

My hand was on the door handle in a flash, wrenching it back only to be stopped by the child lock. Frustration in the form of a sob found it's way from my throat and I whirled around to see where that asshole had disappeared to. The figure moving toward my side of the car was not the one I was expecting.

It was the greasy-haired man who had leered at me in the back of the van earlier that night. My stomach rolled with fear and disgust and I scrambled back on the seat, trying to get as far away from the door as I could get. I tried the other handle and let out another cry of anger as it refused to pop open.

The man peered into the tinted window and pulled the door open, his mouth stretching into a devilish grin as he leaned into the car. He stared down at my bare legs, following the length of my body until his eyes met mine. I watched with my lip curled in disgust as he ran his tongue over his top teeth. It churned my stomach and I could only imagine what horrible things were running through his head.

His hand shot out faster than I had been anticipating and clamped around my bare ankle. He wrenched me toward him and I screamed as my body slid across the leather seat. With my free foot, I kicked out and hit him square in the chest. Seeing him stumble back with the air knocked out of his lungs was satisfying, but he recovered too quickly for me to feel much of anything aside from terror.

I tried to grab the passenger seat to pull myself away from him but he stomped back to the car, ducked into the door, and grabbed me by the hips this time. "No!" I cried, feeling my hands slip away from the seat I had tried to hold onto.

He pulled me, kicking and screaming, from the car and didn't put me down once I was free. He kept one arm looped around my waist, keeping me pinned to his side, and used the other to cover my mouth. The rough skin of his palm hurt as he held on tight. I tried to struggle against him, to somehow wiggle free, but he was frighteningly strong and he easily steered me toward the warehouse.

My eyes darted around. There were two men to the side of us, but neither of them was the man I was looking for. Did I somehow offend Joker when I rejected him in the car? Was this my punishment for it? I refused him so now he throws me to his pack of henchmen to have their way with me?

I was starting to wish he had killed me the first time he met me. It would have been a better fate than this.

The rusting, metal door to the warehouse opened on shrieking hinges and I turned to stare at the darkened inside of the building. My fight or flight instincts flared inside me and I thrashed against my captor once more. My bare feet did little harm to him but still, I kicked and stomped as much as I could. There was no way I was going to let them touch me without a fight. If they wanted to put their hands on me, I was going to use any method I could to hurt them before they could.

The man holding me turned so he went through the door first and I reached out to grab the door frame. I knew it wouldn't stop him from pulling me inside, but I had to do something. Just as my hands curled around the aged metal, the rust digging into my palms, I saw him. He walked in behind me and his eyes were dark as they focused on me. It wasn't the same look he had given me in the car, but it was just as frightening.

He moved closer, despite me holding onto the frame to keep us from moving further inside, and once he was close enough that I could almost feel his warmth, I let go. Flakes of rust scraped my palms and I winced as I was jerked away from Joker before he could get too close. On unspoken orders, the man hauled me inside the massive space inside the warehouse and I caught the last glimpse of Joker as I was whirled away from him.

There was a small square room immediately to the right and peeling letters on the door spelled ‘office’. I struggled again, kicking out and hoping the blows of my heels against his shins hurt. Judging by the way my captor chuckled at my ear, a sound that made my stomach roll, it was clear that my attempts did nothing.

With a quick nudge of his shoulder, the office door flung open and hit the wall behind it. Barely a breath later, he flung me into the room and I landed on my hands and knees with a hiss of pain. My already burning palms flared hot and I shook the hair from my face, turning to look back at the man taking up the space inside the door frame. He had a smirk on his greasy face and I glared up at him.

He put a hand on the doorknob and leaned against it. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you,” he said quietly, the tone of his voice and words sinking deep in me like ice. I hoped my face held as much contempt for him as I had in my heart. With another smirk, he brought the door closer to him but kept his head ducked inside my new prison. “If there’s anything left of you after he’s finished, that is.”

And with that, the door slammed shut and the sound of the lock twisting in place echoed through the sparsely furnished room around me. I twisted onto my backside and dusted my hands off on the side of my shorts, wincing at the flecks of rust and dirt buried in my skin. I inspected the scrapes and cuts in the dim light of the single bulb hanging by a short cord from the ceiling.

None of them looked too deep and though I’d have a few scabs, I would live. I was pretty sure I was up to date on my tetanus vaccines anyway. Sighing, I looked around the office space and frowned. A narrow table was pushed along the back wall and on the other side of the room, I could see a line of four windows with wires crisscrossing through the glass. There’d be no way I could break through them, and I frowned.

An old, ratty couch was behind me and I reached out to pick at the flaking, fake leather of one of the cushions. It didn’t seem sanitary to sit on, but neither was the floor. And the cold of the concrete was starting to seep past the fabric of my shorts. With a sigh, I pushed myself off the floor and moved to the couch. The cushions were lumpy and I was almost certain the various holes throughout were made by rats.

I tried not to think of that and instead leaned forward to drop my head into my hands. What the fuck was I going to do now? I was exhausted and I may have still been in shock, it was hard to tell for sure. The adrenaline that had kept me from going insane was starting to wane and all I was left with was…

I squeezed my eyes shut and took my bottom lip between my teeth, biting hard enough in hopes that the pain would keep my mind from drifting back to the incident in the car. But it was no use. The warmth of his hand, even through the material of his glove, was still burned into the flesh of my knee and that look in his eyes, so dark and full of hunger, would never leave my head. It was there now, just as it had looked in the car, piercing through me like one of his knives.

Sitting up, I rubbed at the spot on my knee that his hand had touched and wondered how much I’d have to scrub to get the feeling to go away. I stared down at my skin, still flecked with drops of blood that had turned dark, and let my hand fall away. That little stretch, only a few inches from the middle of my thigh to my knee, seemed different to me now. Like it didn’t actually belong to me anymore.

It wasn’t mine.

It was his.

And somehow, I knew that look in his eyes had been a promise that he’d take much more of me. What I didn’t know...was why that sent a jolt of heat through me.

.

.

Despite the lumpy cushions of the worn-out couch, my exhaustion had become too much for me and I had somehow fallen asleep after an hour or so of being alone with nothing but my thoughts. I wasn't sure how long I slept, but I didn't feel any better as my senses parted the fog in my head and once again tuned into my surroundings.

The room was quiet aside from the rats squeaking and scurrying behind the walls. I'd gotten used to that sound since I'd been imprisoned in this dingy little room but it was still beyond creepy to hear their little claws and sounds they made. I shuddered and lifted my head off the arm of the couch, reaching up to rub the ache that had started to build behind my temple.

Though my head was hurting and my entire body was sore from being so tensed up the past few days, I didn't want to sleep anymore. Not on this couch anyway. I missed my bed, my pillows, and the security of my bedroom. All the things I might not ever experience again if Joker had his way.

With a sigh, I leaned my head to the side, trying to crack the stiffness out of my neck and as I did, there was a small shuffle across the room that was much too big to be a rat. My eyes snapped open and I bit my lip to keep from crying out in surprise.

At first, I wasn't sure who it was standing beside the table against the opposite wall. Their back was to me, head bent low, and the bare bulb above us didn't cast very much light for me to see. Suspenders formed a Y along their back, making the material of their dark shirt bunch up a bit at the top of their pants.

It was enough of a clue that I could guess exactly who it was and I wasn't sure which was the better option. Did I want Joker to be alone with me in a room like this, or did I want it to be one of his henchmen? At least with him, I knew what to expect. Sort of.

What was that saying? When faced with two evils, go with the one you know?

I sat up and swallowed, slowly letting my feet touch the cold concrete floor. The thought of trying to rush him, get the jump on him somehow, flashed through my head and I knew it was stupid before it could even properly form. I'd seen enough of him to know that that wasn't an option for me. If I still had my knife, maybe, but there was no telling where it was now.

My lips parted as if to say something and I quickly clamped them shut again. What was I going to say anyway? There was no point asking him what he was going to do to me. He wouldn't give me a straight answer and to be honest, I didn't exactly want to know. There was comfort in the unknown. There was still a possibility in it that he'd laugh and let me go free. A small, microscopic possibility, but I held onto it with all my might.

That is until I leaned to the side and saw just what had him so preoccupied. Laid out along the table, in a neat row, were a handful of knives ranging in size. My eyes went wide as I watched him reach down and trace the edge of one of the handles with his fingers and in an instant, I was on my feet.

The springs in the couch cushion creaked in protest to my sudden movement and I saw his head lift slightly. He was still hunched at the shoulders, but he turned to the side and I noticed that his hair was tied back behind his head. It distracted me, but only briefly and the sudden terror and anger that had surged through me at the sight of his knives returned in full force.

I wish I had thought to hide another weapon on me somehow because, at that moment, I would have gladly stabbed him right between the suspenders stretched down his back. "If you're going to kill me, then just get it over with! I'm so sick of your little games." My throat clenched tight and though he didn't turn to face me, I could see him slowly reach for one of the knives. "And to be honest, being dead would be far better than having to put up with you--"

He turned toward me now and the sight of him standing in front of me, in the bare essentials of his suit was enough to shut me up, but it was his face that froze the words to the back of my tongue. His makeup was washed off and the hair that usually hung in his face was pushed back, giving me a clear view of his bare face.

Well, most of it. He hadn't done a very good job washing the face paint off. Black smudges sat beneath his eyes and streaks of white lined his jaw on one side. It somehow made him twice as menacing and I hadn't realized I was retreating until the back of my legs touched the couch. My eyes fell from his face to the line of buttons on his patterned shirt, glancing at the straps of his suspenders stretching down to the waist of his pants.

He was thinner than I had expected but sturdy. I knew from experience that he wasn't weak. He had easily held me down that day in the van and thrown me about in my apartment, and god knows I'm not the smallest girl in Gotham. In his right hand, he held a switchblade, and thankfully, it was closed. 

"You were saying?"

Yes, I had been saying things to make myself sound tough and unafraid, but all of those words had died quickly at the sight of him. With a simple nod, he seemed to realize that all of my bravery had disappeared and there wouldn't be any more outbursts from me.

" _ Mm _ . That's what I thought," he said quietly, reaching back to grab a metal folding chair that had been hidden beneath the table. It whirled around him and the legs hit the concrete floor with a clang that made me start. As he stepped around it, he gestured toward me with the handle of the knife. "Go ahead,  _ sit _ ."

I did as he said and found myself once again lowering down onto the rusted springs of the couch cushion. He cleared his throat and sat himself down into the chair, reaching between his legs to pull it closer to me. Even back as far as I could go, I felt we were too close. 

Once we were both settled, with him sitting as impassively as he always looked and with me wound so tight I felt as if I were going to snap in half, he finally looked at me. With the light bulb directly over his head, the majority of his face was shadowed but it caught on the upper edges of his scars, making them seem wider than normal. And then his tongue darted out and I could see how slick and pink it was against his pale lips.

"Do you remember what I told you the last time we were  _ alone _ together?" The sound of his voice startled me though he hadn't spoken very loud. He ran his tongue across his top teeth and sat back in the chair, pushing his knees out until they nearly touched mine. When I didn't answer, he continued anyway. "I told you, that I was going to  _ show _ you what you've got behind those eyes of yours.  _ Remember _ ?"

There was more force behind that word and I swallowed tightly. I knew what he was talking about. It had been all I had thought about over the past week. Him pinning me to the wall in my apartment, hands on either side of my head as he ducked toward me,  _ smiling _ . It was what I saw when I closed my eyes each night and it was what fueled my nightmares.

This time, I gave him a nod and a corner of his lips curled. He folded his arms over his chest but made sure that I could still see the knife he held tightly. I didn't look away from it as he spoke. "Did you think I was going to  _ forget _ ? That you didn’t  _ need _ me to show you anymore?"

"No."

"Then why did you try to  _ hide _ from me,  _ Natalie _ ?"

Was it too late to ask him to go back to calling me 'sweetheart'? Hearing him say my name so forcefully, so wickedly, was making me hate it. If I lived through this, I was going to change my name. His eyebrows lifted, waiting for my answer, and I looked away from him. The dingy windows on the right side of the room were far less threatening to stare at and I kept my focus there.

"Because I'm scared of you." My voice, small and shaky, was absolutely pathetic and it was exactly what he wanted out of me. Despite all of my instincts against it, I cut my eyes back to him and narrowed them into glares. "You can't honestly believe I was going to stay there and wait for you."

He sat up suddenly and I pressed myself further into the couch, though it didn't take me far enough away from him. He placed his elbows on his knees and dangled the knife between us, making me glance down to it. Would I be fast enough to snatch it from him?

"I  _ believed  _ that after our chat, you would see that I mean what I say." He narrowed his eyes on me and I snapped my attention back up to his face. "After all we've been through, that's  _ one thing _ , I figured you would remember. But it  _ seems _ , I'm going to try harder to convince you."

The snap of his voice made my eyes squeeze shut and I took a deep, trembling breath that burned the back of my nose as I inhaled. It was a telltale sign that tears were on their way and I gnashed my teeth to distract me from the urge to cry. When I opened my eyes, he was still staring at me but I could see a quick flash in those impossibly black eyes. It mirrored that hunger I had seen in the car earlier and a rush of electricity raced through me at the sight of it. As quickly as the flutter of warmth appeared, it was gone and replaced with terror once again.

"Is that what you want?" The quiet intensity of his voice was alarming and at the same time, it drew me in, pulling me with invisible fingers toward him and I had to force myself against the back of the couch. The sight of his face without any makeup was still so alarming to see. It made his words feel more sinister somehow. "Do you want me to try  _ harder, Natalie _ ?"

My answer was barely a whisper. "No."

The smile stretched across his lips pulled my attention to them. I didn't look away when he spoke again, watching his tongue through the space between his lips as he let out a raspy laugh. "Because I've gotta admit, it's been a _bit_ _difficult_ fitting you into my busy schedule. I'm a popular man these days, Natalie. In case you haven't noticed."

"I noticed."

"Good. I'm glad you're aware of my  _ efforts. _ ” Just like he had in the car earlier, his hand dropped to my knee. I couldn’t look away from his face, too frozen with fear to move an inch this way or that. The feel of his thumb, brushing over an inch of skin that I had never realized was so sensitive, reignited all those feelings from the car. Anger, disgust with myself, the horror that I  _ liked _ the feel of his hand all swept through me as he continued. “I’d much rather move on with things.  _ You see _ , I’ve been trying to show you that--”

In a bold move that I was faintly aware could get me killed, I reached out and slapped his hand away from my knee. The edge of his fingernail scraped my knee and I watched his gaze narrow with annoyance. He parted his lips with a disappointed cluck of his tongue and I glared at him. 

“Show me  _ what _ ? That you’re a murder? That you could easily kill me? You don’t have to show me anything because I already know that you could.”

Joker sighed and sat back in his chair, tilting his head to the side to stare at me with frustration. It reminded me of the way my parents would look at me when I did something annoying or disappointing to them. I hated that he made me feel so small like  _ I _ had done something wrong here.  _ I  _ wasn’t the one kidnapping people against their will, forcing them to participate in his fucked up interrogation tactics and claiming it was all a date!

Thankfully, his new position took his hands away from me and I watched him settle his palms over his thighs. The switchblade was still gripped in his right hand and I wondered if it was just for intimidation or if he was actually going to do something with it. Contrary to everything he had done to other people, with me, I wasn’t sure he wanted anything other than to scare me.

Like he got off on it or something. 

“I’m  _ trying  _ to show you what you’re too  _ afraid _ to admit. But it’s difficult when there’s still  _ so much _ \--” The flick of the blade clicking in place made me jump and I stared at the tip of it between us. The steel caught the light of the single bulb and my breath held so tight in my chest it hurt. “In the way  _ between us _ .”

We were less than a foot apart by now and while I wanted to at least  _ attempt _ getting away from him, I was frozen in place. Apparently, the knife wasn’t just for intimidation after all. My eyes flickered back up to his face and I found an all new reason to be afraid within his stare. I searched his dark gaze, so focused and burning through me, for any sign of what was to come. Was he going to slit my throat, or…

It was the  _ or _ that was making it difficult for me to breathe. My chin quivered as I whispered. “What do you mean?”

“I mean--” he cleared his throat and pointed with his free hand to my chest. I didn’t dare look down, too scared to take my eyes off of him for a second. “There’s still  _ so much _ in the  _ way _ .”

Wait--

Did he mean--

_ My clothes _ ?

The realization that he had been pointing at my  _ shirt _ made my throat tighten around a gasp, making my voice come out in a squeak that I’m sure he took satisfaction in hearing. The corner of his lips twitched, but he didn’t allow himself to smile. He didn’t have to. I could see the humor filtering slowly through the darkness within his eyes and it both terrified and infuriated me. 

It seemed that I finally had the answer to that earlier question and the  _ or _ that I had been so terrified of was exactly what he wanted from me after all. Somehow, I found my voice enough to say, “you want to fuck me.”

It wasn’t a question. It didn’t need to be anymore. I may have been terrified and I may have been traumatized, but I knew enough about this  _ heat _ between us that I could figure that out on my own. Joker laughed quietly, the gesture stretching the scars in the corners of his lips.

“I think you have that backward,  _ Natalie _ .”

My eyes widened in bewilderment. He was truly crazy if he thought that  _ I  _ wanted to…The thought of it was almost laughable and I found myself scoffing in disbelief. This guy was truly a narcissistic psychopath. It may have been a mistake to laugh at someone like that, but I honestly had no idea what else to do at that moment. The very  _ notion _ that I wanted to  _ fuck him _ was ridiculous. 

Shaking my head, I stared at him, completely unsure of what to say to that. I was exhausted, running on fumes, and he continuously pushed me to my limits. At this point, I just wanted this to end.

“You think  _ I _ want to  _ fuck you _ ?” My eyes rolled dramatically and I ignored the impatient smack of his lips as he watched me, his face void of any emotion. “Why on earth would I want to do that? You’ve kidnapped me  _ twice _ , you broke into my home  _ twice _ , you drag me around and torment me. And that’s not counting what you did to other people! I watched a man die because of you--”

The blade of the knife came down between my legs and plunged easily into the faux leather cushion. It shut me up quickly and I swallowed whatever words I had been on the verge of saying. Joker sighed, the irritation quite evident in the sound, and he plucked the switchblade up and sat back in his chair before pushing away the strands of hair that had fallen around his face.

“You play this little  _ damsel in distress _ act well, Natalie.” Another smack of his lips and I could hear the sarcasm dripping from his words. I frowned at him and glared. “But are you really being taken against your will? Are you sure you’re not the one seeking  _ me _ out?”

It was the second time he had accused me of seeking him out and just like the first time, I was in disbelief. How could he possibly think this was my fault? I was an innocent bystander in all of the instances that led to our chance meetings. They were all coincidental, except for the ones he orchestrated himself!

I had nothing to do with being anywhere  _ near _ him and if it was up to me, I’d put the world between just to get away from him. Too stunned to argue with him, I could only sit and stare as he tapped the blade of the knife against his thigh. Slowly, he leaned forward and pointed it up at me as he spoke. 

“You can sit there and try to tell me that you’re disgusted by me, that you’re _appalled_ by all of this--” he gestured between the two of us with the knife, but I couldn’t look away from his face. “Your eyes, though? They tell a different story. I told you once that I could see _what you truly_ are behind them, _what you_ _really_ want. I told you I would show you.”

My tongue felt heavy and dry in my mouth and I darted my eyes around the room. There had to be a way for me to get out of here. I didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say.

Joker leaned forward and draped his arms over his thighs, dangling the tip of the blade between my knees. He brought it up to one of them and scraped it lightly against the inside of my thigh. Any more pressure and I knew he would have cut my skin and I didn’t know how I felt about him being so careful with it. It wasn’t his style and it was making me...nervous didn’t quite feel like the right word to use.

“I can see that you’re lying to yourself right now, Natalie.  _ And  _ to me. Aren’t you?”

His question made me shut my eyes and I tensed every muscle in my body to keep from trembling. I didn’t want him to see he was the reason behind it. I shook my head, not entirely sure of his question or my answer, but it was the one I was holding onto for dear life. I refused to give in to him.

The feel of his fingers once more circling my knee, sending heat pouring out from his touch, made me flinch and my lips parted in surprise. “Are you going to deny that this whole thing _ hasn't  _ been  _ turning you on? _ "

My breath left my lungs in one quick puff but I didn’t dare open my eyes. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t have to look at him to know exactly what was burning behind his eyes. I could feel it seeping through me, settling deep inside where it stirred up so much darkness among the things I kept hidden from even myself. 

A little higher on the inside of my thigh, too close to the center between my legs, the tip of his blade traced another line that left pain in its wake. I made a noise in the back of my throat, a mix between a gasp and a whimper and I knew he liked the sound of it. 

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Natalie. It's perfectly natural to have these wants, these  _ desires _ .” His voice was deep and gravelly and it was the sound of it that finally made me open my eyes to look at him. My heart was pounding and I knew if he kept this up, I was going to pass out from a lack of oxygen. “It’s perfectly natural to  _ act _ on them as well. I can see that you want to. That look--” he lifted the hand from my knee to point at my face and my body jerked as if he were pulling invisible strings attached to me. “Tells me  _ everything _ .”

Slowly, he pulled away from me, taking the blade with him. As it left my body, a violent tremble rolled through me. What was happening? What was  _ wrong _ with me. I didn’t want to believe him. I wanted to put my hands over my ears and drown out everything he said to me because hearing it and  _ feeling _ the way I did from it wasn’t an option. 

He disgusted me.

He terrified me.

I hated him.

And I hated myself more because what he was saying actually affected me. I didn’t want to admit it and just knowing that his words stirred something in me that I had been denying was making me nauseous. I swallowed tightly and shook my head, cutting my eyes to the row of windows along the right side of the room. 

Every muscle in my body was trembling in horror. I was terrified that he was going to kill me, rape me, or something more sinister was hidden up his sleeve. With a breath inhaled that made my chest rattle, I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed back the lump pressing against my throat. 

I  _ refused _ to believe anything close to what he was saying. He was psychotic, deranged, and I had reached my limit. At this point, I didn’t care if he killed me. I just wanted this to end. 

“You’re wrong.”

“Is that right? Well--” the clap of his hands on his legs made me jump and my eyes snapped open to the sight of his mouth curving into a smile. “I could  _ show _ you  _ exactly _ what you want. But, I’m an  _ old fashioned _ guy.”

Before I could even blink, he was on his feet, gripping me by my arms and pulling me up with him. I reached for his shoulders, hands gripping around the fabric of his shirt to try to shove him away from me. All of my efforts were for nothing. He held me close to him, his warm chest pressing into mine and though I struggled against his hold on me, he only laughed.

One of his hands dropped from my arm but quickly looped around my waist, bringing me flush against him. I could feel the gritty, dirty floor beneath the tips of my toes but was too frightened to do anything but dangle there in his grasp. When he lowered me just an inch, I was able to use my footing to try to move away from him, but he kept his grip tight.

He spun me around the room, passing beneath the bare bulb, and the shift of light cast a change of shadows across his scarred face. I watched, my eyes wide, my hands still trying to push him away from me, as he grinned down at me and whirled in a full circle. 

“You know,  _ Natalie, _ ” he said, nodding down at me with a grin. “I gotta admit. I’m  _ almost _ tempted to give in-- _ just for tonight _ \--” I struggled harder against him, not caring anything about what he said. I didn’t want to hear anymore. I just wanted him away from me. As if he could read my thoughts, his arm tightened around my waist and my chest pressed against his. Our faces were closer than they ever had been before and my eyes flickered down to where his tongue traced his bottom lip. 

My gaze moved back up to meet his and for just a moment, no longer than a single beat of my heart, I held my breath and waited. Another tremble rolled through my entire body, one that I was certain he could feel judging by the quick twitch of his eyebrow. I didn’t know whether it was the nearness of his body--so feverish--or if my sudden sweat was from something else. 

The grip I had on his shirt slacked and he seemed to notice that as well. He was far too perceptive. 

His smile vanished quickly, leaving me blinking in surprise, and the arm still around my waist tightened as he stomped toward the door to the office. The rusting hinges creaked in protest as he threw it open and forced me back into the warehouse. 

A table had been set up a bit further inside the massive building where a group of his henchmen were playing a game of cards. Upon seeing their boss, every one of them dropped their cards and jumped to their feet like obedient dogs. I grimaced and shoved against Joker’s chest once more. This time, he let me stumble away and I managed to balance myself before slamming into a metal beam. 

“I think it’s time for  _ Ms. Jacobs _ to go.” He snapped his fingers and three men started toward me without hesitation. Fear lodged itself into my throat and I let out a pathetic shriek. As two of them flanked me and grabbed my arms to keep me from running, the third walked past us and opened the door. 

Joker stepped closer, reaching behind him for his back pocket. My eyes cut down to his hand and went wide at the sight of a red, silk ribbon he pulled out. The smile on his face was stiff as if he were irritated and I struggled against the two men at my sides. They were too strong for me. 

He stepped up to me and held the length of the ribbon out in his hands, staring down at it. Without looking up at me, he reached out and took hold of my left arm. His goon held it in place while Joker wrapped the ribbon twice around my wrist, tying it off in a bow right on top. I stared down at it, not sure what to even think.

Was he letting me go...or getting rid of me? 

When my eyes darted back up to his, I caught sight of something glittering in the light to my right. The third henchman had returned and was holding a plastic tube in his hands. On the end was a needle. My eyes widened and I struggled harder against the hands holding me with bruising grips.

“Shh, shhh, shh,” Joker soothed, reaching up to brush the back of his knuckles against my cheek. I glanced at him quickly and then back to the man with the needle. As he stepped closer, Joker’s hand closed around my chin and forced my face toward his. I could see the needle getting closer to my arm out of the corner of my eye. 

The sharp sting of the syringe made me hiss and despite me struggling and pulling with all of my strength, I was no match for the two men at my sides. With a push of the plunger, whatever was in that tube entered my veins and burned like hell. Tears were burning at my eyes and I could feel them threatening to spill. 

I searched his eyes for any kind of humanity, pleading with him not to do this, but I found nothing but that darkness that would haunt me for the rest of my life. The edges of my vision grew fuzzy, filling with black and I let out a strained whimper as he dropped my face. 

My knees buckled and I went down. Before I could hit the ground, the arms at my side held me up and someone spoke. The voice echoed in my head as if it were at the opposite end of a tunnel and I rolled my head back to stare up at the man before me.

Dressed in the bare essentials of his suit, his face mostly free of that god-awful makeup, he stood as still as a statue and watched his henchmen drag me away. I frowned, fighting hard against the wave of nausea and dizziness that had filled me so suddenly and left me on the brink of unconsciousness. And as my heels dragged over the dirty floor, before I slipped completely under the darkness threatening me…

Joker’s scarred mouth widened into a grin.

.

.

With a start, I sat up in bed, a deep gasp for breath scratching the back of my throat. My head was swimming and I reached up to press a palm against my forehead as I leaned over and groaned. The entire room was spinning…

What the hell happened?

Slowly, I managed to peek out from behind my eyelids and saw a tacky, blue blanket that did not belong to me. On the opposite side of the bed from where I was, a familiar black duffel bag was open, the contents spilling out. I could see my clothes and a tennis shoe, though the other one was nowhere to be found.

Beyond the bed was a wooden television stand and the space between it and the wall triggered a memory that flared so suddenly in my head it hurt. I winced and shut my eyes tightly as I tried to make sense of everything.

I was back in the hotel room.

Had it all been the world’s worst nightmare? If that were true, why was I so stiff? I felt as if I had been squeezed and bruised and dragged all over the city. Sitting up, I managed to stop the spinning long enough to look down at myself. 

Dirt and dust stained my knees and the bottoms of my feet were nearly black. My arms were sore and bruised at my elbows, but it was the strip of red silk tied around my wrist that I couldn’t stop staring at. 

It hadn’t been a nightmare.

I had actually been kidnapped, dumped in the back of a van, witness to a murder, and terrorized by the Joker under the guise of a first date. Groaning, I leaned forward and dropped my head back onto the blankets. Why me? Why was this happening to me?

Better yet, how could I stop it?

It didn’t seem possible. I try to run and he finds me, I try to fight him and he just laughs. I try to deny what he said last night held  _ any _ truth and…

My stomach lurched suddenly and I slapped a hand over my mouth. Whatever they had drugged me with had left me sick and I was going to puke. I scrambled over the corner of the bed as my gag reflex was triggered. The toilet was too far away so I settled on the sink. I threw up all of the chips and candy bars I had eaten the day before and what little nutrients they had provided me were gone.

Gasping and panting for breath, I ran the water and cleaned what most of the vomit that I could. Afterward, I splashed some cold water on my face and slipped to the floor beneath me. With the water still running, I crossed my legs and leaned forward, putting my head in my hands. 

I stared at the stained, tan carpet beneath me and wondered if the dark droplets seeped into the fibers were from blood. A man had been stabbed only a few feet from here last night. I seriously didn’t want to explain any foreign bloodstains to the hotel staff, though judging by that housekeeper who had let them into my room, I had a feeling they might let this slide.

I squeezed my eyes shut; not because I didn’t want to see the blood on the floor, but because I couldn’t stand to look at the ribbon around my wrist any longer. If I had the strength, I would have ripped it off my arm and flushed it down the toilet, but I could barely breathe. 

The back of my throat burned as I swallowed and my tongue felt dry and heavy in my mouth. I needed water and something decent to eat. Vending machine snacks weren’t going to keep me alive. 

Struggling, I managed to crawl back onto the bed and searched through the duffel bag for the cash that I had hidden inside one of the pockets. Thankfully, none of the goons who had broken in had wanted to add robbery to their crime sheet. The roll of twenties that I had stolen from Chelsea was still there and I knew that my short-lived hideaway in this hotel was going to be coming to an end soon.

And speaking of the devil (the lesser of the two evil devils in my life) my cell phone lit up on the bed beside my bag and the caller ID was the one person I was not prepared to speak to just yet. I held my breath and stared down at Chelsea’s name. She had probably come back to our apartment and saw what I had done. She was more than likely calling to tell me she was pressing charges and I was homeless.

Swallowing my guilt, I picked up the device and pressed the answer button, bringing it up to my ear with a deep breath. “Hello?”

“Finally! I’ve been calling you all morning! Are you alright?”

I frowned and looked down at myself. I was pretty fucking far from alright, but she wouldn’t know what I had been through. “Um, yeah...what’s wrong?”

“Have you been gone all night? We were  _ robbed _ ! The whole apartment is wrecked, Natalie! You need to come home  _ now _ !”

* * *

  
  
  
  



	10. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have posted this a while back, but all of these chapters (and the little quotes at the start of them) are from songs that inspire me during each chapter. I've got them on a Spotify playlist, in order (except chapter 7...no idea where that came from lol) If you'd like to listen to it, I'll add the link to it :)

* * *

spotify link:

[tear me to pieces](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6ydz2MMA5YwZdWkwQfMGv2?si=lZwZFvbCQAOGQMSwsa3OTg)

_Ashes to ashes_  
_In the embers, I blaze_  
_Oh, I gotta rise amongst it all_  
_And I think about your face every day_

* * *

I was a mess--a total _fucking_ wreck to be honest--as I hurried down the sidewalk toward the apartment. My hair was up in a bun that was halfway slipping out of the ponytail holder and my clothes were askew on my body as I ran. The bag at my hip containing the clothes I had brought and the money I had stolen bounced against me with every step. Loose change rattled around in the bottom, hitting against my cell phone and the toiletries I had snagged from the motel.

Rounding the corner, I nearly collided with a man walking his dog and he shouted at me to slow the fuck down. As I ran around him, jumping out of the way before his tiny, yappy dog could snap at my ankles, I caught the guy mumbling about my walk of shame. 

Boy was it ever.

I hadn’t even had sex, but I was still mortified. I felt like a cheap hooker making her way home after a night of waiting on street corners to give $10 handjobs. The thought made me shudder. The last thing I wanted to think about was handjobs and the Joker. Yet, of course, my inner thoughts hated me as much as I hated myself, and a mental image of those two things popped up in my head, making the toe of my shoe catch on a crack in the sidewalk.

I shook the thought from my head, refusing to acknowledge that the thought had made me stumble...or the fact that my face was burning hot. I couldn’t think about that right now though. Not when I was about to be faced to face with my extremely pissed off roommate and worse--the cops.

Even from across the street I could see two police cars parked on the curb outside the building. Seeing it there made my throat clench tight and my steps slowed until I stopped right in front of the cars. Would they be able to tell from the crime scene that it hadn’t been a break-in? That it was me who had smashed the box of hidden cash and stolen it all? 

My impending homeless situation felt closer than ever and I swallowed down the urge to throw up as I stepped off the sidewalk and crossed the street. As soon as I pushed inside the door to the mailbox area and the stairs, I could hear Chelsea’s voice from the second floor. She was snapping at someone and I was thankful that for the moment, I wasn’t on the receiving end of it.

“Are you kidding me? You can’t do anything?”

I wanted to take my time climbing the stairs. Being around Chelsea was bad enough but I was beyond nervous to be in front of cops again. Would they recognize me? Were they there the night Joker had blown their department to hell and back? 

For some reason, I felt as if I reeked of his scent and they’d be able to smell him on me. It was as if I had spent too long with him and he had rubbed off on me somehow. Did he mark me with a ‘Joker was here’ across my forehead? I hadn’t had much time to check myself over before I rushed out of the motel room.

Of course, the one way he had marked me, with the red ribbon still tied around my wrist, was something they wouldn’t exactly know about. Just thinking about the strip of silk made me reach for my wrist and I pulled the sleeve of my jacket over it. I don’t know why I hadn’t taken it off yet. I told myself I hadn’t had time while rushing around the dingy motel room and hurrying across town to get back home.

Slowly, I reached the second-floor landing and turned to the left to face our apartment door. It was sitting wide open and I could see the back of a police officer leaning a shoulder against the door frame as he listened to Chelsea rant. I knew I should get inside and see the damage, but I was too nervous to move. 

Would they see it in my face that I was strangely involved with the one person the entire city was searching for? 

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward and cleared my throat. The police officer turned to look back at me before turning to face me. His eyes narrowed, searching my face and I knew that he was waiting for me to tell him who I was, but I was paralyzed with fear. It seized my throat, squeezing the words that I wanted to say. 

I need your help.

A maniac is terrorizing me and I’m scared he’s going to kill me...or worse.

“Oh, my god! Finally!” Chelsea’s voice broke through my thoughts and both the police officer and I faced her as she stomped across the kitchen. Around her, I could see debris scattered. Someone had busted our kitchen chairs and pulled the toaster and blender off the counter. “Where have you been?”

I pushed past the cop and dumped my duffel bag on the floor beside the couch. I shook the fallen hair from my face and glanced at the other two cops standing between our bedroom doors. “I...I was at Abby’s.”

“All night? I tried calling you a million times!”

“I’m sorry,” I said, trying hard not to roll my eyes. It was clear that though I wasn’t the one to wreck the place, she was going to blame me for it anyway. Then again, it was kind of my fault. I’m the one that led the Joker right to our front door. But she didn’t have to know that. “We got back late and I didn’t have money for a cab. She let me stay the night.”

All of that would have to be run by Abby later to cover my tracks. Thankfully, I had done the same for her a few times and hopefully she would accept it without issue. Chelsea eyed me with a narrowed gaze for half a second before she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“Sorry. I just did not want to deal with this headache right now. They stole my jewelry, my money and they wrecked your room up pretty good too. You might want to check it out.” She hugged her arms around her narrow waist and I nodded, reaching down for the strap to my duffel bag. I didn’t want to leave it just in case the police decided to search through it for whatever reason. 

The two cops standing beside my bedroom door nodded to me as I passed, not offering much of a condolence but I didn’t care. I was just relieved I was back home for the moment. The motel room hadn’t offered me much in the way of protection and though he knew where I lived, I felt better here. 

A part of me was remorseful for the situation. He had found me easily enough. I could have just stayed put and waited for him instead of breaking into Chelsea’s savings and stealing from her. At least his henchmen gave me a good cover for that. Hooray for small miracles, I suppose.

The rack I kept my clothes hung on was tipped over and all of my drawers were dumped out on the floor. What the hell had they been looking for? Maybe we were actually robbed after all.

I moved to the bedside table and opened the drawer and held my breath. The single playing card, a joker with a hole punched in the top corner and typed words on the front, was exactly where I had left it. I glanced over my shoulder to where the cops were standing, looking at Chelsea while they talked to her. It would be so easy to go to them, to tell them the truth but...what good would it do?

The police were as powerless as I was in this situation and there was nothing they would be able to find from just a simple playing card. I bent down and shuffled the things in my drawer, covering the joker card with my neglected packet of birth control pills. Once it was hidden, I shut the drawer and dropped my duffel bag on the floor as I sat on the edge of the bed, bending over to drop my head into my hands. 

A moment later, Chelsea stomped up to my bedroom door and I lifted my head. She looked irritated and crossed her arms over her chest. “Anything gone?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really have anything valuable. It looks like they looked through everything though.” 

“Chels!” A deep voice from the front door called out and I held back a groan. Greg was here. My roommate spun at the sound of her boyfriend’s voice and I dropped my head back into my hands again. 

And once again, I didn’t have very long before someone else was at my bedroom door, clearing their throat. I looked up to see one of the policemen standing in the doorway, a pen in one hand and a small notepad in the other. He glanced around my messy room and finally looked at me. “You alright to give us your statement?”

“Oh.” Did I have a choice? Could I even tell them that I wasn’t ready to deal with this right now? Shaking my head, I shrugged. “I guess.”

“Now, while Ms. Andrews was gone for the week, you were here, correct?”

I nodded. “I was until Thursday. I went to my friend’s house and stayed until this morning.”

“Will that friend be able to corroborate your story?”

As soon as I tell her the story, yes. Then again, I had ditched out on working last Sunday. God, this was not going to be a fun conversation to have with her and I already knew she was going to want details and answers about where the hell I actually was. 

The cop lifted his gaze to me and I cleared my throat. “Yeah, she can.” My eyes cut to the living room where Chelsea and Greg stood huddled together, and I thought about what might have happened if they hadn’t been gone this week. What if they had been here when he came to find me? He would have killed them without a second glance. It would have been all my fault. And now I was bringing Abby into this? I felt wretched and terrible and I couldn’t do that to her. 

“Actually, no, she can’t--” the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them and as the cop blinked at me, I quickly formed a lie. It was stupid, but it was the only way to cover my tracks and keep Abby out of this mess. “--I just...I can’t tell my roommate where I was because she’ll freak out. I was with a guy, in a hotel room. Gotham City Motel--it’s this cheap place right off the--”

“I know the place. Ma’am, were there any drugs involved?” 

“What? No!” My throat clenched around my words. I had been injected with something but I had no idea what it even was! “I’m just a little hungover--from alcohol. But it was a one night stand and I don’t even have the guy’s number. You can call the motel though. I’m sure there are security cameras and can back my alibi up. Am I a suspect for this or something?” More importantly, would they even check the motel for confirmation of my alibi? In a way, I hoped they would. I hoped they saw me being dragged out of that room by two men and thrown in the back of a van. I wanted them to come back and tell me they would help me if I just gave them a bit of information.

Because I obviously couldn’t confess anything myself. 

The cop slapped the notebook shut making me blink and sighed. “I’ll be honest with you. These things are tough to solve. Our advice is to contact your insurance companies to estimate the value of the items that were stolen and to get some extra security. Maybe some better locks. Those chains don’t do crap.” 

So that must have been what Chelsea was so upset over earlier. They really couldn’t do anything. Then again, how would a minor robbery compare to something like a terrorist blowing up random parts of the city and killing off important political figures? It was shitty, but I understood. 

I could relate to them because I had been dealing with something similar. How was I supposed to care about someone coming in my room, messing up my clothes when just last night I had been kidnapped, forced to witness a murder, and drugged? Not to mention, the conversation I had had up close and too personal with the one terrorizing me. 

And even now, my head still fighting to clear the fog from the drug he had injected me with, I could hear his words as clearly as he had said them last night. 

You play this little damsel in distress act well, Natalie.

Are you going to deny that this whole thing hasn't been turning you on?

I swallowed tightly and reached up to scratch at my forehead, hoping the cop didn’t notice the look of misery on my face and if he did, hopefully, he would assume it was from all of this mess. With another sigh, he slipped the notebook into the pocket on his shirt and gave me a nod before joining the other two out in the living area.

One was talking to Greg, possibly repeating the same thing I had been told moments ago, and I was too exhausted to hear it again. I lowered myself onto the edge of my bed and looked down at the clothes strewn all over my floor. It looked exactly how I felt inside. Messy, destroyed, chaotic. All because of him.

I closed my eyes and tried to force my thoughts away from him. It was bad enough he was haunting me in real life. I didn’t need him weaseling his way into every waking thought I had. Fear and terror and hatred, he could have. How dare he try to make a space amidst my deepest, darkest thoughts and desires. 

Ugh, this was not happening! 

I stood to my feet and stomped to the dresser where my bras and panties were spilling out the top. I needed something to take my mind off of the disgusting thoughts he had implanted in my head. So I cleaned. There was no telling if any panties were missing and I didn’t know what to think about the possibility of some dirty goon with my panties in his pocket.

The thought made me shudder and I shoved all the garments back into the drawer and slammed it shut. Next came my every day, comfy clothes and I made quick work of it, not bothering to fold anything. I just wanted to put it away and not look at it anymore. 

Out in the apartment, Greg was saying something to the cops, and a moment later, the front door shut behind them. I lowered the shirt I was holding and wondered if I should have spoken up. They were here to protect me, that was their entire job. And I just let them leave without telling them about any of the fucked up things that I had been through. I was scared to admit it to anyone, and honestly, what could they do? They’d had him in custody and couldn’t keep him there. 

As I stood there, staring into the living room, Chelsea’s voice cut through the tension and I felt myself flinch.

“They show up an hour and forty-five minutes after I called them for the third time and then they tell us there’s nothing they can do? What the fuck is the point of police? Absolute bullshit!” I watched her stomp across the apartment and a moment later, her bedroom door slammed shut. Greg let out a sigh and I lowered myself onto my knees to tend to the bottom two drawers. His feet shuffled across the floor and I could hear him picking up the splintered pieces of what used to be our dining room chair.

By the time I had finished cleaning up half the mess strewed around my room, he was making his way to my bedroom door. I bristled, only because I was so not in the mood to talk to anyone else right now. But Greg was one of those guys who thought just because he was okay, everyone was as well. He didn’t think about what anyone else could be going through.

Not because he was a bad guy, but because he just didn’t think like that. He was annoyingly optimistic.

I turned to glance at him from over my shoulder as he stopped at my door and leaned a shoulder against the frame. He glanced around the floor before bringing his eyes up to meet mine with a sympathetic smile tilting one side of his mouth. “You okay?”

I nodded, knowing if I opened my mouth at that moment, I wouldn’t be able to hold anything in and I wasn’t about to confess all of my shit to Greg of all people. He would promptly turn me into the police. Well, maybe he wouldn’t, but Chelsea most certainly would. 

“Anything of yours gets stolen?”

“Not that I can tell. I don’t really have anything valuable.” Having to repeat that so many times made me feel like a loser. Shouldn’t I have something of value? I was an adult, and yet, I felt as clueless as a kid most of the time.

He nodded and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Leaning back to glance at his girlfriend’s door, Greg dropped his voice down and turned to face me. He leaned closer and whispered. “I told her not to keep all of her money under her bed. She didn’t listen to me.”

“I know.” God, I felt like shit. I was sitting here, talking to him like I wasn’t the one still carrying half of her money around in my duffel bag. There had to be a way for me to pay her back. I would double the amount that I stole by working at a fucking hot dog stand on the street corner if that's what it would take. One way or another, I was going to pay her back. 

“She doesn’t blame you, ya know.” My eyes cut back to him and I blinked. “I know she makes it seem like you should have been here or something, but she was worried when she couldn’t contact you.”

Thanks, Greg...now I feel even worse. 

Again, I couldn’t say much so all I could offer was an, “I know.” 

With a nod, he stepped away from my door but before he could get too far away, he doubled back. “Oh, yeah. I talked to my mom about you. She got your resume and put it on top of the stack. I think I convinced her to give you a chance when they open the position up.”

I blinked and felt my jaw drop open a bit. Surely I was hearing him wrong. Was something good actually happening to me? I stood up on my feet, despite everything below my knees tingling from me sitting on them for so long, and crossed the room. I threw my arms around his waist and hugged him tightly.

He was surprised, judging by the slight stumble he took and the hesitation of his arms reaching around me to hug me back. Tears pricked hot at my eyelids and I squeezed my eyes shut to stop them from spilling out. “Thank you,” I croaked. “You don’t know how shitty things have been the last few weeks. I just...I really needed this.”

“Oh, well, you’re welcome.” He cleared his throat and dropped his arms to his side and I took the hint. I backed away, turning to wipe at my eyes before he could see my tears and lowered back down onto my knees in front of my dresser. “I’ll uh...I’ll let my mom know you’re excited about the opportunity.” 

“Greg!” Chelsea’s voice was muffled behind the wall separating our bedrooms, but it still made me flinch. I whirled around but he was shaking his head and already stepping away. He disappeared from my sight and a moment later, the other bedroom door shut with a soft click. 

I could hear their voices but didn’t pay much attention to what they were saying. There would be no consoling her for several hours, possibly days, and I wasn’t in the mood to hear her, no matter how remorseful I was. The downside though...I was alone with my thoughts and anytime I had more than a few minutes without some type of background noise to drown everything out, he would find his way back into my head.

Like clockwork, after a few minutes alone among the chaos of my wrecked bedroom, there he was again at the back of my eyelids when I closed them and just sat. He was barefaced, looking down at me with that Cheshire grin that would forever be etched into my memory. I could still see his suspenders stretching down the front of his shirt, bunching the material where it disappeared beneath the waist of his pants. 

My breath shuddered as I exhaled and recalled how thin he was. Thin, but he had easily lifted me and tossed me about. I remembered his hands on me, one arm circling around my waist and holding me pressed tight against his body. 

And the look he had given me when it was still just the two of us in that room, the single light bulb casting dim light and making more shadows on his face than usual. That look was still there in my memory, still just as potent as it had been in the moment and I squeezed my hands tightly around the jeans I was holding. 

His words echoed once more and I clamped my teeth over my bottom lip, biting hard enough to cause pain, hoping it would snap me out of this trance. 

Are you going to deny that this whole thing hasn't been turning you on? There's nothing to be ashamed of, Natalie. It's perfectly natural to have these wants, these desires...I can see that you want to. That look tells me everything…

Was there truly something in my eyes that only he could see, something hidden even to myself? I didn’t want to believe that. I didn’t want to imagine him knowing anything about me but...The touch of his hand in the car, so warm and gentle yet still carrying a promise of pain, had caused a reaction within me. I had liked it. I had leaned into his touch and would have let him do more if I hadn’t stopped it. 

And even now...I opened my eyes and stared down at my hands, still clutching the jeans I had been attempting to hang up. Around my wrist, right where he had tied it in a pretty little bow, was the ribbon. It was so bright against my skin, so red. I stared at it, so lost in the color and the promise behind it that I didn’t hear Chelsea’s bedroom door opening. 

It wasn’t until Greg was back at my door, knocking gently at the door frame that I blinked myself free. I whirled around to face him and he rubbed at the back of his neck with a sheepish smile on his face. “Hey, listen, Chelsea’s not wanting to stay here tonight but we don’t want to leave you alone either. Would you want to come over? I don’t have a spare bedroom, but I do have a couch that’s pretty comfy.”

I wanted to cry. The offer was sweet and god knows I didn’t want to be alone tonight, but I couldn’t take the chance that somehow, he would follow me to Greg’s apartment. It was already hard enough living with myself as it was. With a sigh, I looked back down at my clothes scattered around me and forced my head to shake back and forth. 

“That’s okay. Thanks for the offer though.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind.”

Translation: He didn’t mind, but Chelsea wasn’t entirely on board. I could tell this had been Greg’s idea and he was only trying to be nice to his girlfriend’s weird roommate. It made me wonder what she thought of it. She already couldn’t stand us being alone in the same room together. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve got some errands to run anyway.”

I was going to take the cop’s advice and buy stronger locks for our front door. Maybe a gun, just in case. 

“Well,” he started, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his khakis. “If you change your mind, just let us know. We’ll come get you.”

“Thanks,” I said quietly. While they packed up her clothes for an extended stay at Greg’s, I sat on the floor of my bedroom and listened to them quietly argue. I had no way of knowing, but I felt like I was at the center of it. Maybe I was just being full of myself. 

It wasn’t long before Chelsea emerged from her bedroom with two suitcases in each hand and she didn’t even glance back at me. A moment later, Greg reappeared at my door for the third time to say goodbye and remind me that his offer to let me crash on his couch still stood. I declined again and watched them both leave the apartment. 

The deadbolt had been kicked in and the latch wouldn’t shut all the way so the only lock I had, was the shitty chain that the cop told me was useless. Still, I crossed to the door and pushed it shut as best as I could, latched the chain, and positioned one of the only intact chairs beneath the knob to hold it in place. 

And somehow, despite it all, I felt safer than I had in the motel room. Unfortunately, the television was gone, so drowning my thoughts out with background noise wasn’t an option and my shoulders fell as I stared at the empty space where the TV had been. Looks like it would just be me and my thoughts...unless someone decided to drop by for a visit.

I hated that the thought of that possibly happening made my body react before I could stop it.   
.  
.  
The days passed by agonizingly slow. Every time a door opened in the hallway, or voices echoed in the stairwell, my entire body tensed up and I held my breath in waiting. It was only the neighbors each time, but it still never failed to make me afraid that it was someone else, creeping up the stairs. 

The man that lived above us checked on me once, though I refused to unlatch the chain as I spoke to him through the door. He was nice, quite a bit older, and gave me his phone number in case I needed to call someone for help. I accepted it, though I doubt I’d ever actually call him. 

It wasn’t until Monday that the landlord came by to replace the deadbolts and doorknob and I was glad that I didn’t have to buy the new locks myself. He wasn’t as nice as the man upstairs and basically told me that if we had any more trouble, to deal with it ourselves and leave him alone. He left shortly after replacing the lock and didn’t once ask how we were holding up after being broken into. 

At least our door would shut on its own now. 

But by Friday, I was feeling strange. I felt like a ghost, haunting my own apartment. If I wasn’t in my bedroom, I was aimlessly walking through the living room or kitchen. It had been a whole week since I had been snatched from my motel room and I was still trying to forget it happened. It was difficult to do, of course, when all I could think about was how it had also been seven days since I had seen him last. 

He hadn’t made a single appearance, to me, or to Gotham. It was like he had disappeared and I didn’t know if I was happy about that or not. I was actually thankful that our television was gone because I knew I would be scouring the news channels for any mention of him. 

I had heard two women talking in the grocery store on Wednesday about that district attorney that had been caught in an explosion, Harvey Dent. He was still in critical condition in the hospital and burned pretty badly according to one of the women. They talked about how awful it was that his girlfriend had been killed and that the police needed to do something about this.

I wanted to laugh at them. What could the police do if even the Batman couldn’t stop this? After their conversation had put me in a sour mood, I had walked over to the wine section and snatched two bottles from the shelf. It was the cheap stuff, but I wasn’t picky. Another week of no contact from Joker and I was going to break one open and celebrate.

The days passed and I remained alone in our poor, violated apartment. Chelsea stopped by to check the mail and get some more clothes, but she was gone again after a quick conversation to make sure I was still alive. She didn’t give me the same offer that Greg had given me. That was fine. I didn’t care.

Without her around, I had rearranged the living room and pushed our couch against the wall near the window. I could sit on the arm and stare out at the street, watching for any strange vans or SUVs with black tinted windows. Once, a white, painter’s van had driven by and my entire body tensed, but it hadn’t even slowed down. 

It was like he had just let me go and forgot about me.

I was beyond confused. Why the hell had he even tormented me in the first place? Was I just there because he was bored between explosions? Or had he actually forgotten about me? Did I not compare to his master plan? I hoped he wasn’t planning something horrific, but a small part of me--a part that I was trying hard to ignore--was...jealous.

It left a sick taste on the back of my tongue and I ignored the feeling weighing down on my chest. I refused to believe that I actually wanted him to come back. Only someone absolutely sick in the head would want that. I had laid on the couch that night, staring up at the ceiling while trying to sort through my thoughts. They were still just as jumbled and wrecked as they usually were. 

Resisting that wine was becoming harder and harder. I wanted to numb myself to the constant cyclone of fear and disgust with myself and those strange thoughts popping up every now and then. The thoughts that somehow forced their way into my head, conjuring up weird little daydreams about what might happen if he came back.

I hated it. I hated that I let them get longer and more detailed each time. It started with me wondering if he would kick my door in or just appear again like he had the first time. Would it be while I was asleep? Would he try to wake me up or just watch me sleep? Would he touch me, try to cut me with one of his knives?

I pressed the heel of my palms into my eyes and clenched my teeth so tight I thought they’d crack. Why was I doing this to myself? I was acting like a pathetic loser who was waiting on a guy to call after a first date. It made me sick to my stomach. When I woke on Saturday morning, I knew I had to do something other than wander about like a tortured soul.

Luckily, I woke up the next morning to a series of texts from Abby checking on me. I decided to call her.

“I thought you’d forgotten about me,” she said as she answered my call. 

“That’s not possible, I don’t think.” I heard her laugh and continued before she could speak again. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for ditching the other day. I feel awful about it but I was feeling really sick and I didn’t need to be around food.”

“Don’t worry about it!” It was so nice to hear her sound so carefree about it. “I knew you weren’t feeling well that Saturday. I have your check for that day though. Wanna meet up for some lunch?”

“I would but I’m stuck doing laundry today.” Also, I couldn’t run the risk of someone in particular seeing me with her. Abby was infinitely prettier than I was and if he saw her, he’d probably switch his sights onto her and she didn’t deserve that. 

Of course, thinking that only sent those stabbing stings of jealousy back into my chest and I scowled at myself for being so ridiculous.

“That’s fine! I’ll drop by and we can catch up while you fold clothes.”

I stammered, unsure what to say to her. On one hand, I was so lonely the past week that the sound of someone keeping me company lifted my spirits. But on the other…

“Okay--” I answered her before I could stop myself. Immediately, I slapped my palm to my forehead and shut my eyes. “I have some wine too so we can get tipsy and do some laundry.”

Abby laughed and promised me she would be by in half an hour. I had plenty of time to call her back and make up an excuse, but I didn’t. Instead, I gathered my clothes into a hamper and finally opened the duffel bag to retrieve the clothes I had taken to the motel with me. The shorts and t-shirt I had been wearing were stained with dirt and dust from that warehouse and I held them in front of me. 

And like a moron, I brought them up to my nose and took a deep breath. Just beneath the faint scent of sweat and my shampoo was him. That strange mix of gasoline and a lit match. A dangerous combination of things and together, they ignited a strange fire within me. It left my head spinning and I whimpered as I buried my nose deeper for another breath of it. The faint scent that had lingered was gone and I dropped the clothes from my face, rolling my eyes.

I quickly tossed the clothes into the hamper, trying hard not to think about how close I had been to him to have his smell rub off on me. Too late, I was already thinking about the feel of his arm around my waist, the heat radiating off of him as he pulled me close as I could possibly get.

A flash of his face raced through my head, the look he had given me as I stared up at him searing through me so hot that I could still feel the burn a week later. I couldn’t remember thinking it then, but now I couldn’t help wondering if he had wanted to kiss me at that moment. Had I wanted him to?

It was a horrifying thought, one that I quickly shoved out of my head as I picked up the laundry basket and headed out the door. The hallway outside our apartment was clear and I breathed a sigh of relief as I looked down over the stair railing to the first floor. The front door was shut and there didn’t seem to be anyone lingering about. 

I locked the door behind me and hurried down to the laundry area. It was a small room tucked behind the stairs with 4 washing machines and two industrial dryers. Someone’s laundry was spinning in one of the washers and I moved down to the second. 

Just as I dumped my clothes into it, I heard the buzzer on the front door. The sound sent my heart racing and I backed up to lean my head out the laundry room to see who it was. Abby’s smiling face beaming at me through the glass filled me with relief and I hurried out to open the door to her. 

She was as gorgeous as ever, with her hair piled up on her head, spilling a few loose curls around her oval face. When I pulled the door open, she held out a check in one hand and wrapped the other around me for a hug.

I wanted to hold onto her for as long as I could, desperate for a human’s touch that didn’t feel as if it were burning through me. Reluctantly, I backed away and let her step by so I could let the door shut behind us. 

“Well, you look better than you did the last time I saw you.” She pulled her sunglasses off as I led her to the laundry room where the washer was waiting for my quarters. “What were you sick with?”

“Oh, uh, the flu,” I lied, turning away from her to face the machine. I slipped four quarters into the coin slot and added a scoop of detergent as the water began to pour out.

“Damn, that sounds awful. I’m glad you’re feeling better and I have a surprise for you.” 

“You mean my one day check isn’t the surprise?” I laughed but I honestly didn’t want to look at the amount I had been paid. It wasn’t going to be much, I knew that. 

“Well, if you need more, there’s a big job coming up in two weeks. Brad asked about you and I think he’s interested in bringing you on at least part-time.”

I blinked and spun to face her. Two job offers in less than a week? Was this actually happening? Maybe my bad luck was turning around after all. Shaking my head, I set my laundry basket on the floor and shut the machine lid. “I don’t know what to say.”

“How about, ‘thank you, Abby, you amazing and generous, not to mention, absolutely gorgeous woman’!” 

“Thank you, Abby!” I said sweetly, batting my eyelashes. “You’re amazing and generous and so absolutely gorgeous!” 

She grinned and pulled herself up on one of the machines not currently turned on. With one leg crossed over the other, she winked at me. “Now, how about that wine you promised?”

“Oh! I forgot it upstairs!” I dusted the flecks of powder detergent off my hands and grabbed my keys from the table. “I’ll go get it and we can celebrate.”

My heart was beating quickly as I hurried out of the laundry room and rounded the stairwell. It didn’t seem possible that two things were actually going my way for once. A possible job at the bank would be ideal, but at least if it didn’t work out, I would have something to fall back on! 

Suddenly, I wasn’t terrified of becoming homeless or having to run back to my parents with my tail tucked between my legs. Maybe things were actually starting to look up for me. If only I could get a certain maniac out of my head and out of my life.

As I turned off the stairs and moved down the hall toward my apartment door, something felt different and I frowned down at my shoes. The realization that I wasn’t alone in the hall made me lift my head to see the one thing that could ruin the first good mood I had found in weeks. My steps came to a halt and I could only stare at the figure leaning against the doorframe of my apartment. The sight of one of Joker’s men--the greasy-haired one who had leered at me and grabbed me and threatened me--standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, hair slicked back into a ponytail at the back of his head made my stomach clench tightly. 

The urge to vomit threatened the back of my throat and I was frozen to the spot. He lifted his head at the same time that I opened my mouth to scream for help and his grin stopped the words from coming out. 

“Miss me?”

* * *


	11. Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things...First of all: the timeline. I meant to put this back like 3 chapters ago, but the timeline is kind of stretching out the events of the movie. After Harvey gets halfway blown to hell, there's just no way a week or so passes before the climax of the movie. Sal was dropped from a building and broke both of his ankles yet in the hospital, he's walking with a cane. So, I'm taking some liberties and assuming that there was a good chunk of time between the explosion that killed Rachel, almost killed Harvey, and the finale with the Batman/Joker showdown. We'll say....four or five weeks.
> 
> Second of all: this chapter was going to be HELLA long, but it's 11 pages as it is, and the next part was probably going to be about 15 so I chopped it. No Joker this time around but I will more than make up for it with the next chapter :) Anyway, thanks for reading!

* * *

_Dear Enemy_   
_All the words that you have said_   
_Are like a cancer_   
_That grows inside my head_

* * *

“What are you doing here?” My voice was barely a whisper, but the grin on the guy’s face told me that he had heard me loud and clear. Fear prickled like ice across my skin and while I knew I should have run back toward the stairs and tried to get away, I was frozen where I stood. 

Abby was downstairs. She would hear me scream, would call the police and...and it would take them an hour and forty-five minutes to show up. We’d both possibly be dead by then. Swallowing tightly, I glanced at the stairs and the greasy-haired guy stepped away from my door, making me flinch.

“I came to see you. Don’t worry,” he said quickly, nodding toward my apartment door. “No Joker this time.”

I didn’t know if that was necessarily a better option. On one hand, I was relieved that what was waiting for me wasn’t the psychopath I’ve been terrified of and his unusual methods of torture but on the other...why the hell was this guy here? I shook my head as if to answer my own question and took a small inch of a step backward.

“Don’t even think about runnin’ now.” The guy laughed and opened the front of his jacket, letting me see the gun he had tucked into the waistband of his pants. I didn’t want to look at it but my eyes betrayed me and I quickly swallowed down a whimper. It was better not to let him see how terrified I was. “I just want to talk.”

“About what?”

His grin widened and I could see one of his teeth was capped with gold. He shrugged a shoulder and let his jacket fall back to cover the gun. “Whatever comes up, I guess. Let’s go inside.”

“No.”

At this, the guy raised his eyebrows and folded his arms over his broad chest. “No? I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me no.”

Exactly why I wasn’t going to follow him into a space where he could corner me easily. “Whatever he told you to tell me, you can do it out here.”

“Who said he told me to tell you anything?” The guy chuckled and leaned back a bit, letting his eyes roam down the length of my body. I wasn’t wearing anything revealing, thankfully, but I still felt far too naked with him ogling me. “Maybe I just wanted it to be you and me.”

He took a step closer and I felt the panic beginning to bubble up into my throat, making tiny pinpricks of fear race across my chest. “Does he know you’re here?” I asked quietly, hoping he did. There was less of a chance that I would die right now if Joker sent this guy to get me or something and I didn’t want to risk anything happening to Abby. Just her being here, under the same roof as this guy was too much. 

With a grin exposing that gold tooth once again, he shrugged. “What Joker don’t know, won’t hurt him.”

_ Oh, god _ ...This was bad. I had to tread carefully if I wanted to make it out of this alive and not drag Abby into something dangerous. My brain worked quickly, trying to figure out the best path to take to ensure that we would both be safe. I glanced at the door of the apartment and nodded. 

“Okay,” I managed to say. “Let’s just go inside and--”

“Hey, Nat? I just got a text from my brother. Apparently he wants to meet for lunch and--Oh.” Abby’s voice made me whirl around to face the top of the stairwell and a moment later, her face turned to spot me and the guy behind me. Her eyes widened in surprise and she glanced from me to him and back again. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were talking to someone.”

By now, I was nearly drowning in the panicking sensations crawling over me. I didn’t know what to do. All I could do was stare at her and hope she didn’t catch on to how terrified I was. Though, I’m sure it was written all over my face at that moment. 

Before I could scream or run and try to get us both to safety, I felt a breeze at my side and half a breath later, the guy was stepping up to me. The weight of his arm over my shoulder nearly brought a gag to my throat and I looked away quickly. 

“Hey, I’m a friend of  _ Nat _ ’s. I just wanted to come by and check on her.”

“Oh,” Abby said, lifting her eyebrow into an arch. “That’s sweet. I’m Abby.”

“Daryl,” he responded with a grin, offering his hand out for her to shake. “I probably shouldn’t have come by unannounced, but Nat’s got a way of disappearing.”

To my horror, Abby laughed and scowled playfully to me. God, did she not see how uncomfortable and scared I was? The guy had a gun! A gun that was hidden behind his jacket and currently pressed against my side, letting me know that it was very real and far too close. 

“She’s ghosted me a few times, but I always manage to bring her back around.” Abby turned to me. “Can I take a raincheck on that glass of wine? Joseph’s in town unexpectedly and I’m sure he wants to meet up to make sure I’m not getting into trouble.”

“S-sure.” At least she would be out of harm’s way now...but what about me? With her leaving me behind, I knew I didn’t have much of a chance. But telling her the truth, trying to get away from this guy who was still gripping my shoulder, would be too risky for us both. I blinked myself out of my daze and nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

I watched her turn back to the stairs but something seemed to click in her head and as she put a hand to the railing, her eyes met mine again. With a glance up to the guy at my side,  _ Daryl _ , apparently, she frowned. “You sure? I don’t mind canceling on him if you’d want to hang out.” 

She was giving me an out and I loved her for it. I almost took her up on it, but what choice did I have? Daryl was definitely not going to take no for an answer and I couldn’t exactly invite her to join us. It wasn’t fair to her. 

Putting on a brave face, I nodded and forced my lips into a smile. “I’m sure. I’ll call you later.”

It was a promise that if I do not call her later, then she could worry. I just hoped that I’d be able to actually call her and explain  _ something _ about what was going on. Another lie, I was sure. By now, I didn’t know which lie to keep track of to the people in my life. On the surface, I had to pretend like everything was normal, that  _ I  _ was normal. But on the flip side, I had stumbled into something that I was abundantly sure that I could not handle anymore. 

I had to stop this shit. 

With a nod, Abby said she would call me if I didn’t call her and she left me and the guy at my side standing on the landing of the second floor. Her steps were slow and I listened to them all the way until she reached the front door of the building. It took all my strength to keep my voice down. 

Daryl kept his arm around me the entire time and I knew he was waiting for the door to shut. As soon as it did, his grip tightened around my arm and he spun me back toward my apartment door. I shoved my elbow into his side and managed to pull away from his arm, but the chuckle he let out told me he was letting me. 

“Don’t touch me,” I snapped, glaring up at his face. I didn’t like how much taller her was than me. It wasn’t going to be easy fighting him off if I needed to. 

With a roll of his eyes, he crossed his arms back over his chest and sighed. “You girls are all the same.  _ Don’t touch me _ ,” he said in a high pitched, mocking tone. “Yet you do everything to tease us into wanting more.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve never done  _ anything _ to you. If you think I was ever teasing you or flirting with you, then you’re sorely mistaken.” I didn’t know whether to keep my voice down or shout. I wanted someone to hear us, possibly the man upstairs who had given me his phone number, and come out and see me being cornered by this creep.

Daryl, if that was even his real name, scoffed and nodded to the door of my apartment. “Well, why don’t we go inside and talk this over?”

“There isn’t anything to talk about.”

“Sure there is, Natalie.”

I didn’t think it was possible to hate my name any more than the way Joker said it but I found myself wishing it was him here instead. No, that was stupid. If I were to wish for anything it would be that none of this had ever happened. 

After a moment, with neither of us making a move, Daryl shrugged and opened his jacket once more. The gun was still there and he was reminding me of its presence as if I’d forgotten. I pursed my lips and looked away, not wanting to even glance at it. He didn’t have to say anything. I knew exactly what he meant by showing it to me and with a shake of my head, I turned to the apartment door and stuck the key into the lock. 

The door creaked as I pushed it open and I stood back to let him move into the apartment before me, but he wasn’t stupid enough to do that. He shook his head and jutted his chin to the door, making me roll my eyes and walk in. I hurried inside and found my way to the kitchen, putting the counter at my back so I could face him. 

Right beside my hip, the drawer to the assortment of knives we had sat and I wondered if I would be able to pull one out quickly enough. I didn’t know how good Daryl was with a gun, but hopefully, he wouldn’t be that skilled. I was counting on him being as dumb as he looked. 

As soon as the door shut, I lowered my hands to the counter and kept my fingers pressed against the handle of the drawer, just in case. If he noticed, he didn’t make mention of it and even took a seat on one of the only chairs we had left that wasn’t smashed to pieces. He leaned back and raked his hands over his hair, pushing the greasy strands back with a smile. 

“I take it you didn’t like the mess we made?”

Ah, so they  _ had _ been the ones to break in. Bastards. “What do you think?”

“Gotta admit, for a second there, we thought you’d really high tailed it out of the city. But you’re not that dumb.”

Right. I was only dumb enough to lure myself into a false sense of security after being attacked by a psychotic, terrorist clown, and his faithful lackeys. I was  _ really _ smart. Of course, that thought only made me wonder about something. Just how faithful was this particular lackey?

He came to my apartment without the Joker knowing. Did this mean he wasn’t afraid of him? Or was it something else? Did Joker lose interest in me and give me away to his goons to play with? A little part of me that I refused to acknowledge with anything other than disgust was feeling a bit offended by that. After all of this, he just gives up on me?

I should have been relieved about that...but then again, it brought me to this situation so, I couldn’t be too happy. I stood and stared at the man as he drummed his fingers on the table to his left and continued to give me that stupid grin. I wanted to slap it off of his face.

“He’s tracking you. You know that right?”

Fear flared back through me and I felt my eyes betray me, widening out of fright. Of course, I had always suspected that to be true, but it was alarming hearing it confirmed. How the hell is he tracking me? 

Daryl laughed and laced his fingers behind his head, lowering in the chair until he looked quite comfortable. The position of his arms opened his jacket and I couldn’t help glancing down at the weapon tucked into his pants. 

“He’s good...but I got a few tricks up my sleeve as well.”

“Like what?” 

“You’ll see. Joker thinks he’s smarter than everyone around him but he underestimates me. Doesn’t think I deserve to be anything but his minion or something.” The tone of his voice gave away everything I needed to know. This guy may do what Joker asked him to, but he didn’t like it. A switch flipped in my brain and I slowly slid down the length of the counter until I stood in front of the drawer of knives. “Half the time I don’t even think he knows what the fuck he’s doing. He bounces back and forth so much that our heads are spinning.”

That’s right. Keep talking. Distract yourself while I slowly reach into the drawer and very carefully find a knife. The cold steel of the blade touched the back of my knuckle and I had to stop myself from flinching. As slowly as I possibly could, I curled my fingers around the handle and moved the knife to the back of my sweatpants. They were loose, but the elastic band held the blade in place and I managed to slide back away from the drawer while Daryl was distracted by his own ‘woe is me’ monologue.

“Okay,” I said quietly, hoping he didn’t notice the sweat starting to form on my temple. “But why are you  _ here _ .”

“I had to see you again.”

Exactly what I had been afraid of. I took a deep breath and wondered how close I could let him get before I could strike. It had to be pretty close if I wanted to do any damage. Swallowing down my fear, I met his eyes and shook my head. “Daryl, trust me if he finds out you’re here, it’s not going to be good for either of us.”

Though I had no idea if I’d be blamed for this or not, I couldn’t risk it. I had to appeal to whatever human side this guy had left in him. If he wasn’t afraid of me, hopefully, he would be afraid of whatever the Joker would do to him if he found out. 

“Who’s going to tell him?”

“Surely he notices you’re gone and like you said, he tracks me. He would know if I were to leave, or get hurt.”

The laugh he let out only made me more afraid and I pressed my back against the fridge as he stood to his feet. I wondered how far I could get if I were to run to my room. It was too risky. In just two steps, he could grab me and I did not want to risk that. What I could make in time was the bathroom down the short hall behind me. 

“Who said you had to leave?” He took a step toward me, the heel of his boot echoing in the quiet between us. “What I have in mind can be done right here. Well, I’d prefer your bedroom.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.” Something told me a guy like this wouldn’t care about consent and I inched down the width of the fridge, trying to put more distance between us. “And if you try to...to force yourself on me, you know he’ll find out.”

“Who’s gonna tell him? You?”

As fucked up as it was, yes, I would tell Joker. I doubt he’d care, but a part of me hoped he’d kill this son of a bitch to prove a point. The other goons had called me  _ his girl _ ...surely that meant something, right? 

I held up a hand and Daryl came to a stop about five or six steps from me. It was good enough of a distance that I figured I could make it to the bathroom and slam the door shut, but what then? He had a gun. He could easily shoot through the door to get to me. Would he do that though? A gunshot would bring attention to what was happening and something told me he wanted to keep this quiet. 

My skin crawled at the thought of him reaching me and just to be safe, I took another step back. That fucking smile never left his face and I never thought I would hate to see someone’s smile so much in my life. 

“He’s going to know. You know that, and I know that. Just...go back and let me think about things, okay? I’m a little stressed out right now and I don’t want to do this.”

He chuckled and ran a hand back over his hair. “You don’t gotta do a thing, baby. Let me do all the work.”

_ Fuck _ . This was not happening. He was going to attack me and I had to stop trying to convince him to leave because he was going to catch me off guard if I didn’t form a plan. It wasn’t ideal, but my only option was to barricade myself in the bathroom and scream until I couldn’t make another sound and  _ hope _ that someone was home to hear me. 

I whirled around, my hand reaching for the knife at my back as I ran toward the bathroom. The sound of his footsteps came quickly and thundered in my ears. He was fast but my feet moved over the cold tile of the bathroom and I reached for the doorknob. It slammed into his arm as he reached out to grab me.

Pain exploded from the side of my head and I heard a few strands of hair rip out of my scalp. He had managed to snatch a chunk of my hair and I had caught his arm in the door. I twisted until I was facing his arm, the hair in his grasp obscuring my vision a bit. 

“You stupid, fucking slut. You think you can--” His words turned into a howl of pain as I stabbed the tip of the knife down into his hand. It hit bone and the feeling of it nearly made me gag. The hold he had on my hair loosened and I managed to pull myself free. I pulled my hand back and stabbed again, missing his palm as the blade struck the door frame instead. 

Barely half a second later, the door exploded back in my face and I stumbled against the shower curtain, nearly tumbling backward into the tub. Daryl was in the room before I could catch my breath and I blinked in surprise as he closed the distance between us and snatched my collar with his free hand.

The other one was currently dripping blood on the white, fluffy rug at our feet and I yelped as he jerked me toward the door. With the knife still clutched in my fist, I swung out and buried it into his bicep. He let out another howl of pain and reached for the handle, giving me a clear view of his jacket falling open.

Before I could think, I snatched my hand toward the gun and managed to pull it out of his waistband. It was heavier than I was expecting, just like the time Joker had made me hold a gun, and it slipped from my hand. Daryl heard it clatter to the ground just as I twisted in his grasp and he slammed my back against the wall. 

“I don’t fucking think so,” he snarled, keeping me pinned in place with his forearm pressed against my throat. I kicked out, sending the gun sliding across the hardwood floors until it passed into the living room. “You’re dead, you bitch. I’m going to enjoy fucking the life out of you.”

He pulled me away from the wall just long enough to slam me back into it and my head cracked against the drywall. It hurt but didn’t knock me out. I stumbled away and watched through blurry vision as he wrenched the knife out of his arm and stomped toward the living room. He was going for the gun and I knew if he got a hold of it, I was dead.

I broke out into a run and leapt before I could even think about changing my mind. My arms wrapped around his neck and I could feel the oil from his hair against the side of my face. Frantically, I clawed at his face with my fingernails, breaking one in the process as I scratched and tore at his eyes. 

He screamed and reached back for me, managing to grab my arm and rip me away from his neck. I hit the floor on my back and the impact knocked the breath from my lungs. I was gasping for air before I could even sit up and I pressed a hand to the center of my chest. Above me, he was wiping the blood from his eyes and stumbled into the doorframe of Chelsea’s bedroom. 

There was a bright, red gash down his left eye and I knew that was what had broken my fingernail. He was stunned and momentarily blinded and I had my chance. Though I was still struggling to take a breath, I flipped onto my stomach and scrambled across the floor for the gun. 

I rolled onto my back and aimed at him. I had never used a gun, but I didn’t have to be an expert to hit someone as wide as him at this close of range. With a gasp of air that stung as it entered my lungs, I held my hands steady around the gun and looked up the barrel of the gun pointed right at his face.

Daryl was panting for breath but he managed to wipe enough of the blood and tears away from the damage I had done. Slowly, he managed to blink out from behind his bleeding eyelids and he cursed beneath his breath. “What? You gonna kill me?”

“If you take a single god damn step toward me, I will.”

“You think you’re big and bad now because you got lucky and killed Kenny with a butcher knife? I’ve seen your type. You think you’re brave but--” His words were cut short by the sharp click of the hammer as I pressed it into place with my thumb. It seemed to be exactly what he needed to hear to know how serious I was. 

Hearing him say that I had killed the guy I had stabbed was alarming, but I couldn’t focus on that right now. Slowly, I sat up, never letting the gun waver from the position I had it in. “Get out of my apartment and go back to whatever hole you hide in. I want you to tell that psycho that if he comes near me again, I won’t hesitate to shoot him this time.”

A drop of blood dripped into the corner of Daryl’s lip as he sneered and I felt a tremor run through my arms. Exhaustion was creeping up my body and I knew that if this standoff lasted much longer, I wasn’t going to be able to stop myself from pulling the trigger just to end it. Finally, with another scoff as he swiped his palm across his eyes again, he pointed a finger at me and took a step toward the door. 

“You’ll fucking pay for this. If Joker doesn’t kill you, then I’m gonna and I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t afraid of him, that his threats meant nothing to me and that I could have easily killed him just to shut him up, but I didn’t dare open my mouth. The urge to vomit was growing and I knew if I didn’t keep my teeth clenched tight, I was going to gag. I kept the gun pointed at him even as he retreated to the front door and though I could hear his footsteps echo down the hallway, I didn’t dare drop my arms. 

It wasn’t until the door of the apartment building opened, banged against the wall, and slammed shut behind him that I finally relaxed. I blinked the sting of tears away and scrambled to my feet, rushing to the door. I slammed it shut and twisted the deadbolts, secured the chain, and managed to make it to the sink before I was puking.

The acid burned the back of my throat and the tears rolled freely down my face now. I coughed and sputtered and ran the water, dipping my head beneath it to catch some in my mouth. All the while, I kept an eye on the front door just in case.

The gun he’d left behind was next to me on the counter but I couldn’t look at it. I didn’t want to see it, knowing it had been in my hands and I had been seconds away from either my own death or responsible for someone else’s. Which was strange, considering I already  _ was _ responsible for someone’s death. 

_ You think you’re big and bad now because you got lucky and killed Kenny with a butcher knife. _

I had killed someone. I didn’t even kill spiders. I didn’t even eat  _ meat _ for fuck’s sake and now, my actions had led to someone dying. Just knowing that made my stomach roll again and I groaned down into the sink, the sound echoing around me as I dry heaved. How had this happened? How did I let it get this bad?

Every time I thought I could stop myself from sinking deeper into this fucked up reality, the worse it got. The police couldn’t help me. Hiding couldn’t help me. Running away wasn’t an option. The only choice I had left was to either continue to fight...or give in. 

My fingers trembled as I reached for the knob and twisted it, making the stream of water stop with a creak of the pipes. I laid my head on the edge of the cold, stainless steel and squeezed my eyes shut. Behind my eyelids, the same as it was each time I closed my eyes, the memory his face appeared. He stood still, staring at me, his scarred mouth slowly curling into a smile as if he were watching my breakdown and enjoying every moment of it. 

Slowly, I opened my eyes and stared at the gun sitting on the counter next to me. The hammer was still cocked and I knew how dangerous that was, but I didn’t have the energy to even lift my head, let alone try to figure out how to fix a gun. I stared at the steel barrel and lifted my head until I was standing once again.

I hesitantly reached for the gun and curled my fingers around the grip, careful not to touch anywhere close to the trigger. Just feeling it in my hands, without the threat of having to use it, reminded me of the last time I had held a gun. There had been another pair of hands wrapped around mine that day, and a pair of dark eyes watching me closely.

If I had the chance--if he were here right now--would I be able to pull the trigger? I hadn’t been able to do it that day but things were so different now. He was a much bigger threat to my life and I’d already killed someone else. Would it only get easier to end someone's life? 

Or would it take me closer to being someone like him? 

I closed my eyes and thought back to that day in the back of the van, sitting next to him, feeling the heat of his body suffocating me. The smell of gasoline and sweat and fire surrounded him and even now, I could inhale and recall exactly what he smelled like. It assaulted my senses and though I was alone, I could almost smell him as if he were standing right in front of me. I dragged in a shaking breath and let it out with a sigh. I didn't want to admit it, but I knew that if he were here, right now, standing in front of the gun, I wasn’t sure I would be able to pull the trigger.

As if my life wasn’t fucked up beyond repair already, I couldn’t ignore the way my fingers twitched. I couldn’t deny the fact that I felt colder for some reason as if after having him touching me with that heat of his, after knowing what it felt like to have his hands on my body, I’d never feel warmth again. 

And now I couldn’t help wonder...if he were here, standing in front of me at this moment, would I even put the gun to his head? 

Or would I want to feel the fire of his touch instead?

* * *


	12. Paranoia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I've got good news and bad news.   
The bad news is that I know I promised this chapter would have Joker, but it didn't work out that way.
> 
> The good news is since the chapter came out to be 27 pages, I split it up and am posting them both at the same time. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

* * *

_You can look but you can't touch_   
_I don't think I like you much_   
_Heaven knows what a girl can do_   
_Heaven knows what you've got to prove_

* * *

It took an hour to scrub the blood out of the spaces between the tile in the bathroom. There were bloody fingerprints on the door frame and even splatters of it on the edge of the sink as well. I didn’t recall stabbing Daryl so hard that it would have gotten all over so much, but I had seen enough Forensic Files to know that there were always stray droplets. 

The fluffy, white rug was hopeless. The more I tried to scrub it out, the more it smeared the streaks of red through the fibers. There was no hope and after trying unsuccessfully for about twenty minutes, I gave up and decided to trash it before moving on to the drops on the hardwood floors.

I didn’t mind necessarily. At least the task had kept my mind occupied and off the dangerous thoughts that I knew were hiding in the shadows. I knew that they’d come out again at night, when I was alone in my room, with nothing to think about but  _ him _ . It’s what always happened. 

Tonight would be no different.

I had called Abby around 5 to check in just like I had promised her and to have something to do that I could concentrate on. She was far too curious about my surprise guest and I really didn’t feel like coming up with any more lies. But the truth was absolutely out of the question. 

“He’s a guy I met a few weeks ago when I was handing out my resumes.” That was only the tip of the iceberg of the truth. I couldn’t exactly go into any more detail though. With a sigh, I reached out and brushed my hand over the steel of the gun I had been carrying with me for the past several hours.

“He seemed kind of intense. Not really your type either.”

“Yeah, he isn’t.” Just talking about it like this was making me feel sick to my stomach. I hated pretending like this had been a normal afternoon instead of a terrifying situation that I would need months of therapy to get over. “Something that he’s not too happy about.”

“Oh, god.” Abby scoffed on the other end of the call and I pulled my legs up onto the couch. From here, I could see out the front windows of the apartment and down to the street and I watched for any strange cars creeping by. So far there had been nothing out of the ordinary. “Does he want to be more or something?”

“Or something. I regret ever meeting him.” And by him, I didn’t mean Daryl. Meeting him was just a shitty side effect of stumbling into Joker’s open arms. 

“I’ve dealt with those guys before. Just gotta tell them straight up that you’re not interested. They’ll think you’re into them if you’re nice at all about it.”

I frowned and thought back to all the times I had even interacted with the guy. None of them had been happy, or nice at all. I had been terrified each time. Either terrified or disgusted to have him anywhere near me. The guy must have been totally psycho to think that was leading him on. 

Then again, his boss was delusional about what I wanted as well. 

“We need to go out one night,” Abby said, pulling me away from my thoughts before they drifted too far away. “Get stupid drunk, meet some  _ cute _ guys, and have fun.”

I couldn’t help my laugh. I leaned my head back against the couch cushion and stared up at the ceiling. “Trust me, after the last few weeks I’ve had, I don’t want to meet  _ any _ guys.”

“Then it’ll just be us! We’ll need to celebrate your upcoming job anyway.” 

If I even lived until then. My financial situation may have been on the up, but my living situation wasn’t looking too hot. The days of going out with friends, laughing, being carefree might have been over for good. I didn’t want to think about it, but the next time Abby would see me could very well be at my funeral.

With a frown, I sat up and blinked. If I was going to die soon one way or another, then why should I sit around and be depressed and paranoid? I knew he was tracking me. I knew that one day, I would wake up to find him in my apartment and that would be the last thing I would see. Might as well have some fun before then.

“How about tonight?”

That was all it took to get Abby on board. She squealed and immediately said yes, tonight would be perfect to get stupid drunk and have fun. We made plans for her to pick me up around 8 o’clock and after we hung up, I stood to my feet, taking the gun with me. With a glance over my shoulder to the window, I looked down to the street once more.

A white sedan rolled by and pulled into one of the parallel spaces near the curb but I wasn’t too scared of the middle-aged woman stepping out of it. Sedans didn’t seem like his style. He preferred beat up vans or SUVs with black windows.

If he was going to visit tonight, I wondered what his reaction would be to find me gone again. Would he be angry that I wasn’t cowering in my room, hiding behind the blankets? The thought put a smile to my face and I made my way back into the bathroom for a shower.

I kept the door open so I could listen for any noises out in the apartment and set the gun on the edge of the sink where I could easily reach it from the shower just in case. The muscles along my back were sore from the fight I’d had with Daryl and I turned to the side to inspect my reflection. I could see a slight bruise forming on my right shoulder, but it would be easy to cover with the right top.

Thankfully he hadn’t tried to hit me across the face. Hiding a busted lip or black eye would be tricky.

I stripped my clothes off and tossed them into the hamper wedged between the wall and sink. As the water warmed up, making steam build up near the ceiling, I stared at myself in the mirror. The dark circles beneath my eyes had become a part of me now as much as the freckles over my nose or the faded scar just beneath my bottom lip that I’ve had since I was twelve years old. Nothing short of sleeping for the next few weeks would cure me of them.

They contrasted against my skin and I stared at the weary in my eyes as I combed my fingers through my messy hair. I wondered if this was how he saw me that night he had taken me into that warehouse and confronted me. There had been a moment, just long enough for me to inhale and exhale once, where he had stared down at my face. So much had passed behind his stare, so much that I would never be able to unravel.

I had been so convinced he had wanted to kiss me. 

Maybe I had wanted him to. 

Fog started to creep across the corners of the mirror and I turned away, throwing open the shower curtain before stepping inside. The water was brutally hot, but I welcomed it. I needed it on my cold toes and freezing hands. 

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, leaning my face into the spray. It stung like pinpricks across my cheeks and forehead and I leaned into it more, letting the water soak into my hair. The heat fell down my back and over my shoulders, scorching through me. My lips parted as I took a breath and smoothed my hands over my hair. 

For just a moment, before my thoughts could drift back to him, I stood still and concentrated on the burn. It did its job distracting me and I reached out, pressing a palm against the cool, tile of the wall. The contrast was a shock and I sucked in a breath. I took another step toward the wall and laid my cheek against it. 

It didn’t take long before my mind shifted and those thoughts that I had buried in the shadows started to peek out again. All the moments he had touched me, especially the ones that caused a reaction in me, played through my head and I counted them out. The first had been in Bruce Wayne’s penthouse, that gentle brush of his glove across the droplets of champagne on my cheek. 

The next was in that van when he had covered my hands with his and pointed the gun at his forehead. On the same day, the press of him against my backside as I had sat on his lap. That one especially made my breath shudder and I closed my eyes at the thought of it now. He had put his hands on my face and forced me to look at him and my fingers traced the spot on my jaw where his had been.

The day he had come to my apartment and pinned me against the wall, his hands on either side of my head with the length of his body pressing into mine. No matter how hot I turned the temperature of my shower, it didn’t compare to him.

I had to stop. 

Thinking about this, thinking about  _ him _ , like this was dangerous and disgusting and I didn’t want it in my head anymore. I spun away from the wall and wiped the water away from my face. I grabbed the shampoo bottle--the good stuff that Chelsea bought for herself--and I lathered it on my hair. 

As I scrubbed at my scalp and rinsed, I pushed all my previous thoughts out of my head. I didn’t care that the way he had touched my thigh in the car, or in that warehouse, had turned me on--that it was  _ still _ turning me on. I didn’t care and I refused to dwell on it anymore. 

I quickly washed the shampoo out, applied conditioner, and soaped up my body. All the while, I focused on the tasks instead of letting my mind drift. Anytime I even tried to think about him, I didn’t let myself. 

Once I was rinsed off and clean, I stepped out and wrapped a towel around my body. I took the gun from the sink and stepped out into the apartment, half expecting to see that familiar, garish suit at my kitchen table again. When I didn’t, I crossed into my bedroom and tossed the towel onto the bed. 

My closet was lacking clothes for a night out, but I wasn’t exactly dressing to impress anyone tonight anyway. I wanted to have fun with my friend. I wanted to take my mind off of these thoughts that kept plaguing me and kept getting  _ worse _ . Even as I pulled on a plain, black top and a simple, denim skirt, Daryl’s comment echoed in my head.  _ He’s tracking you. You know that right? _

I didn’t know how he was--didn’t really care how--but wondered if he knew what I was doing now. Had he put cameras in my bedroom the night he had left his card and the ribbon? 

My hands stilled on the button of my skirt and I turned to face my bedside table. The day I had come home after being drugged and dumped back at that hotel, I had taken the ribbon off and stored it in the drawer. Without even thinking, I crossed the room and pulled the drawer open.

Sure enough, lying curled on top of my neglected birth control packet, was the strip of red silk. I plucked it from the drawer and stepped to the mirror hanging on the wall behind my door. It was as if I were moving on autopilot and I had no control over what I was doing. But still, my hands wrapped the ribbon around my throat and tied it in a bow at the back of my neck. 

The color was pretty against my skin and I liked the way it looked with the black top I had picked out. Just enough of my chest was showing between the V-neckline and with the ribbon around my throat, I felt a strange sense of power that I didn’t know how to explain. All I knew was that I liked it. 

It took a while to blow dry my hair, like always. There was a reason I usually let it air dry and just comb through it. It was a hassle but I had time to kill until Abby would be here. Every few minutes though, I would stop the dryer and listen for any sound of an intruder. It seemed that if Daryl had delivered my message earlier, that tonight wouldn’t be the night I would be paid a visit. 

Good. Hopefully, he believed my threat. 

As soon as I was satisfied that my hair was dry enough, I flipped it back over my head and ran a brush through the tangles. Outside in the street, a horn beeped twice and I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. It was ten after eight. It must have taken longer to dry my hair than normal, what with me stopping every so often to check if I wasn’t alone anymore.

I slipped my feet into a pair of slip-on flats and grabbed my wallet. Over the past few days, I had taken the left-over cash from my little heist on my roommate’s savings and transferred it to my wallet. I didn’t like taking so much money out with me, but I wasn’t about to leave it here to have it taken in another robbery.

I snatched my keys from the counter and stepped out into the hallway, checking around me just in case. I hated that everything I did was out of paranoia now, but that couldn’t be helped. It was a part of my life now, just like my perpetual dark circles beneath my eyes. As the locks slid into place and I shoved my keys into my pocket, I wondered if I should have grabbed the gun as well.

It probably wasn’t such a good idea. And besides, we were going to a crowded place. What was he going to do? Show up to a bar and blow it up just because I had threatened him? That wasn’t exactly his style.

Then again...he had crashed a party in a millionaire’s penthouse just to leave a message, but that wasn’t relevant. 

Abby was in the back of the cab on the curb and I hurried in, letting out a breath as I shut the door behind me. Her arms wrapped around my shoulder and I let her hug me for a second, finding comfort in a normal touch from a normal human being. 

“You look so cute,” she said as I pulled away from her and tucked my hair behind my ears. I almost looked away, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see her gaze moving down to the ribbon around my neck. 

Panic bubbled inside me and I quickly pulled my hair out from my ear and smoothed it down my chest, hoping it covered the ribbon. I tried to remember back to that night I had lost it at the party...Had Abby seen him pull it out of my hair? Had she seen him leave with it? Everything that night was such a blur…well, most of everything. 

I could still recall the look on his face and the touch of his hand with crystal clear clarity. 

“Where to?” The driver asked, glancing at both of us from his rearview mirror. A small part of me knew there was a small possibility that this guy could be on the Joker’s payroll, but it was far fetched and besides, I wasn’t going to give in to my paranoia tonight. 

“Anywhere crowded. And nice.” Two characteristics that he might not seek out. 

Abby scoffed and leaned forward in the seat to address the driver. “23rd and 11th. The Adelaide Room.” As she sat back and glanced at me, the corner of her lips lifted. “It’s fancy.”

“Fancy is good. As long as they have alcohol.”

Whether she was suspicious of my choice in a necklace for the night or not, I didn’t know. It never came up on the cab ride to the bar and I didn’t want to bring it up unprovoked. All I wanted was to have a single night, even if it was just a few hours of peace. And ironically, the only place I would find it is in a crowded, upscale bar in the heart of Gotham.

The cab pulled up to the curb outside the bar and I looked up at the building while Abby, thankfully, paid the fare. A gold plated sign above the revolving front doors said ‘Adelaide Hotel’ and I lifted an eyebrow. This was far fancier than I had been expecting and as I got out of the cab and looked down at myself, I was afraid that I was underdressed. 

“You’re gonna love this place,” Abby said with a grin, looping her arm around mine. I glanced down at her outfit and frowned. She had a tank top on, with a black vest buttoned at her waist that accentuated her figure, and a skirt that fell to her knees. She stood a few inches taller than me thanks to her heels. It was exactly the kind of thing to wear to a bar like this.

Suddenly I felt ridiculous wearing the little ribbon around my neck, but taking it off would only draw Abby’s attention to it. 

As we slipped into the revolving doors, and I got a better look around the lobby of this place, Abby leaned down to my ear. 

“Good liquor, but also good looking guys.” I scowled up at her and she lifted her hands in surrender. “I know you said you didn’t want to meet any guys but if you’re going to meet your millionaire, this is the place. The bar’s on the fourth floor. C’mon.”

She pulled me toward the elevator and I sighed. We hadn’t even got to the bar yet and this already felt like a mistake. I couldn’t help glancing around the area, just in case he had somehow followed me here. The paranoia crept along my spine as I scanned the lobby. At the back of the room was a brightly lit, circular desk where several people stood waiting to be checked into their rooms.

A seating area was directly in front of it and a man in a business suit lifted his head from the newspaper and glanced our way. His eyes met mine and I swallowed tightly. For far too long, he stared after me, watching until we stepped into the elevators. I could only stare back, my eyes wide and giving away the sudden fear I felt until the doors slid shut and I was staring into my metallic reflection. 

“I feel underdressed,” I mumbled, looking down at my denim skirt and flats to take my mind off of the feeling of being watched. With a sigh, I pulled at the hem of the black top and looked back up at my reflection. The only thing I did like about what I wore was the one thing that felt as if it stood out over everything else. Why, oh why, had I tied the stupid thing around my neck?

“You look great! Trust me, no one is going to notice your clothes when they’re looking at your gorgeous face.”

Her words made a touch of warmth turn my cheeks pink and I shook my head. “Stop. You’re going to make my ego inflate.”

“I know.” Abby shook the blonde curls from her face and smiled at our reflection. The bell above the doors chimed and she once again looped her arm around mine. “Now let’s go find us some millionaires to flirt with.”

.

.

I hadn’t meant to get so drunk so fast. Once the tab was opened, it was like I knew I had about a grand to spend and the drinks just kept coming. Not to mention, alcohol was exactly what I needed to numb some of these insufferable thoughts that liked to pop up at the most inopportune times. 

Thankfully, most of the night had gone by without any of them sneaking into my head. Abby had been right about the bar. If these guys weren’t rich in some way, they definitely wanted everyone there to think they were. It was the exact type of guy I never thought I’d date again. The Wall Street types that always had an impressive story to tell and credit cards they would flash to excite the women.

The more alcohol I drank, the more I toyed with the idea of letting one or two of them offer to buy me more...or pay my rent. But I was so not in the mood to deal with men, even ones that weren’t threatening or psychotic. Unfortunately, though she had assured me that tonight would not be about finding guys, that’s exactly what she did an hour into our night.

Abby had pulled two men dressed in business suits as if they had just gotten out of the office over to our table against my protests and while they were indulging her in a story about something or another that happened on one of their yachts, I excused myself to the bathroom. Even without heels on, I stumbled a bit in the direction of the restrooms, and one of the guys, Preston or Peter or something, reached out to steady me.

I forced a smile and assured him that I was fine. 

I just needed to splash some water on my face and maybe snag a bottle of water from the bar on my way back. The last thing I needed to be was stumbling into my apartment drunk. Especially when I wasn’t sure what would be waiting for me when I got there.

_ No _ . I wasn’t going to think about him in any way, shape, or form. My sober thoughts were already annoying. I didn’t even want to entertain the idea of what my inebriated mind could conjure up.

The line to the bathroom wasn’t that bad and I was pleased to see that each stall had its own sink inside. Even as tipsy as I was, I figured that this was probably the perfect place to sneak away for a line of coke, though I wasn’t into that kind of thing. I shut the door behind me and immediately turned the cool water on to splash a bit on my face. It was funny how I had been so cold the past few days and now I was far too warm. 

Once my face was cooled off a bit, I relieved myself and washed my hands. There were too many voices outside the stall and I took a moment to just balance myself and gather my thoughts. This was more than likely a huge mistake. It was stupid of me to get this drunk when I couldn’t be sure of my own safety. The thought of going home like this was alarming. Maybe I could ask to go home with Abby and sleep it out on her couch.

But even through my liquor induced haze, I knew that was out of the question. She’d insist of course, but I would have to turn her down. It would be awful to have him pop up at her apartment and scare the hell out of both of us. Like usual, I had to be alone in this suffering but I wasn’t going to think about that. I needed to get out of the bathroom and get back to the table.

First, I needed water and a lot of it. 

I managed to make my way out of the bathroom on steady feet. The girls in front of the bathroom mirror were all busy talking or fixing their makeup and I squeezed past them and back into the bar. A blast of the AC hit me as I walked beneath the vent and I closed my eyes to enjoy the feel of it. Which was a bad idea because I slammed into someone a second later.

A pair of hands took hold of my arms, instantly reminding me of the day I had stepped off the curb next to that alley and right into his arms. I could still see the smile on his face and the flash of recognition in his eyes. My eyes snapped open and I gasped in horror at the pair of dark eyes gazing down at me now. In an instant, I looked down at their mouth and let out a breath of relief.

No scars. No makeup. 

I blinked back up at the guy’s face and felt foolish for even thinking it could be him. This guy was normal, or well, seemed to be normal anyway. He flashed a friendly smile at me and ducked his head to make himself level with me. 

“You alright?” His accent was foreign--British--and I blinked again in surprise. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just...I’m sorry.”

“No worries.”

His hands fell away from me and I took a step to the side to let him pass. My heart was racing and I stood near the edge of the bar, trying to steady my pulse. I glanced back over my shoulder at the guy but he was already making his way to the men’s restroom. By the time I managed to find an open space at the bar, I was starting to calm down. My fingers still trembled as I set my hands down on the bar and leaned forward.

As soon as the bartender looked my way, I asked for two bottles of water and he nodded. I took them and made my way back to the table where Abby and our two new friends sat. She pointed to the bottles as I sat down and lifted an eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you’re quitting already.”

“Not quitting. Just slowing down. I didn’t realize how tipsy I was before I stood up.”

The man closest to me--Patrick, maybe--grinned and made a bold move by draping his arm around the back of my chair. It would have been fine if he hadn’t run the back of his fingers over my side. I cringed on the inside and twisted the cap of my water bottle off. I slid closer to the edge of my seat and didn’t really care if he noticed me trying to lean away from his touch.

The conversation topic--favorite vacation spots this time--picked up once again and I fell into a polite quiet, responding only when spoken to or nodding and laughing when appropriate. If this was how millionaires socialized, I knew why I hadn’t snagged one yet. They were awfully boring and I knew these two guys weren’t exactly millionaires but they were wealthy enough to flaunt themselves.

I wondered if they’d even bother speaking to me if Abby hadn’t been here. This was definitely more her scene, not that I was jealous or complaining. I had wanted a night away from my thoughts and up until the moment I had bumped into the guy outside the bathroom, my thoughts had been pretty far away.

Now though, they were peeking out of their hiding places and starting to slither back through my mind. A few times I glanced toward the back of the bar, in the direction of the bathrooms, and wondered if I could find the guy in the crowd. He had been good looking, but it was his eyes that I couldn’t forget.

That same impossible dark color that had been haunting me. It didn’t look natural and it made my skin crawl. Even with Mr. Wall Street's arm around my back, I felt a shiver race down my spine just thinking about them. While Abby and the two guy’s attention was pulled away from me for the time being, I glanced down at my phone to check the time. 

It was after midnight. I didn’t know how long she wanted to stay but I was starting to feel antsy. That sense of paranoia was creeping back up my spine and I don’t know how I knew, but I was certain he could see me. Or, at the very least, someone who knew who I was. The feeling of being watched was slow. I felt it at the back of my neck, right beneath the bow I had tied, making the hairs beneath it stand on end. I slowly turned to look over my shoulder to scan the crowd.

There was no one looking my way. No painted faces. No scars on either side of a stretched grin. Just a normal bar with normal people. It made me feel worse somehow. Did I even belong around normal people anymore? I definitely felt different, tainted almost.

I snatched the water bottle from the table and turned it up, gulping down the entire thing and gaining the stares of the table. Abby laughed and pushed her curls over her shoulder. “Easy, Nat. You’re going to be floating if you keep that up.”

I took a deep breath and set the empty bottle back down on the table, meeting her gaze. “I should go.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them and she blinked at me in surprise..

“It’s not even midnight.”

“It’s twenty minutes after, actually.” I slid my chair back and fished some bills out of my wallet. I didn’t know how much I laid down on the table, but I saw one of the guys lift his eyebrows. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Oh, yeah. You too--”

“Nat, wait.” Abby grabbed her purse off the back of the chair and followed me as I took my wallet and my second bottle of water and turned toward the door. “Where are you going? I thought we were having fun.”

“We were. I just...I’m tired.” I couldn’t even look at her. I felt horrible for ruining our night out, but I couldn’t take it anymore. That feeling of being watched, of someone knowing I was here and telling  _ him _ was unbearable. I should have never tried to be normal.

Abby frowned and pulled my elbow, making my steps slow to a stop by the front doors of the bar. I turned to face her as she sighed and pursed her lips. “It’s because of that night, isn’t it? The night of the Wayne Fundraiser.”

My eyes widened and I swallowed tightly, the muscles of my throat moving against the ribbon around it. With just one question, she had sucked all the air out of my lungs and I was struggling to find the words. She didn’t give me a chance to speak them.

“I was freaked out after what happened too and after everything that’s been happening. But we’re fine and you can relax now. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

The corners of my eyelids burned as tears threatened. This wasn’t happening. I couldn’t talk to her about this. She wouldn’t understand any of it and would only pressure me to go to the police if she knew the truth. I shook my head and blinked up at the ceiling. “I just want to go home. I’m sorry.”

She rubbed her hand down my arm and nodded. “Okay. It’s okay. We can go home.” 

“You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. I’d feel bad if I was the reason you didn’t snag a millionaire tonight.”

With a laugh, Abby turned me to the elevators and waved her hand. “Please. I have a carton of ice cream in my freezer that’s far more interesting than those two guys combined.”

It took an hour to get back to my apartment after waiting twenty minutes outside the Adelaide Hotel for a taxi. As the cab turned the corner onto the street outside my building, I turned to Abby with a small, slightly embarrassed smile. “Thank you for seeing me home.”

“Not a problem. Do you need me to stay?”

I was shaking my head before the question had left her mouth all the way. As desperate as I was for human contact that didn’t terrify me, I knew it was too risky. So I did what I usually did and lied to her. “No, that’s alright. Chelsea should be home tonight anyway.”

She nodded and just as she had when I climbed into the cab earlier tonight, her eyes fell to the ribbon around my neck. With a sigh, she lifted her hand and traced it with her finger. “I thought you’d lost this that night.”

“It was in my pants pocket,” I whispered. My voice was nowhere to be found and I prayed that she couldn’t tell how hard it was just to speak another lie to her. The cab came to a stop by the curb, and her eyes met mine again making me freeze. The words were on the back of my tongue, the truth--every bit of it--threatening to come tumbling out.

I wanted nothing more than to tell her the horrors I had endured since then. I wanted her to tell me everything would be okay even if I knew they wouldn’t be. I just needed to hear the words, needed to believe someone else’s lies for once. There was so much concern written across her face and even in the dark of the cab, I knew she could see the tears welling up in my eyes. I quickly blinked them away and turned to the door.

“We should do this again soon.” 

“Nat…”

The car door was opened before she could say whatever she was thinking to get me to open up. I held my water bottle and stepped out of the cab, taking a deep breath though it was mostly exhaust fumes with a bit of fresh air. My eyes darted up to the window on the second floor where our living room sat. The lights were still on, just as I had left them but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was waiting for me. 

“Nat, wait.”

I spun back to face her and was thankful that she wasn’t getting out of the car. I forced a smile and clamped my wallet between my elbow and side as a few drops of rain started to fall on the roof of the cab. “I’m fine. I promise.”

“You say that but you don’t look fine. You know you can tell me anything, right? We’re friends.” True. We were friends, but this wasn’t something I could just confide in her about. No one was that good of friends. She’d never understand and I didn’t want to drag her into anything dangerous. 

I nodded and smiled again, reaching for the car door to shut it before she could even think about jumping out and walking me up to my apartment. “I know. I just need some time. I’ll be okay.” 

“If you say so.” I could hear the uncertainty in her voice and though I reassured her with another smile, it was clear that she didn’t understand. 

Stepping up onto the sidewalk, I let the cab pull away from the curb and watched the red tail lights until it took a right and disappeared around the building down the block. That feeling from the bar, that someone was watching me, crept back up my spine and I looked down at the water bottle in my hands, not brave enough to look up at the window. My head still felt fuzzy from drinking so much though I had been hoping that the first bottle would sober me up a bit.

I twisted the cap off the water and turned it up at my lips, drinking nearly the whole thing all at once. Droplets rolled down my chin and I quickly wiped them away before I turned to face the front door of the building. I knew I didn’t have to walk in.

I could have started walking, called Abby back or Greg to come to pick me up. Either of them could have kept me safe for the night. Instead, I took a step and then another and another until I was pushing my way back into the apartment building. Down the hall, a dryer was rumbling quietly and I could hear someone’s television on far too loud for the middle of the night. 

My steps were slow but eventually, I made it to the second floor. It was my neighbor who had their television volume up and I ignored it as I turned toward my apartment door. It was closed and I assume locked still. There was no way I knew for certain, but I just  _ knew _ that the apartment I was going to walk into would be empty.

It was unavoidable, unfortunately. If I didn’t face him now, he would just hunt me down and force me to deal with him somewhere else. At least this way, I could get it over with.

I could feel a tremble in my fingers as I slid the key into the locks and twisted them. The hinge of the door creaked and I peered into the crack of the door. Though the lights had been on only moments ago, they were off now and I stepped into the darkened apartment with my breath held tight. 

I had been right. 

I wasn’t alone. 

* * *


	13. Want

* * *

_Darlin', darlin', darlin'_   
_I fall to pieces when I'm with you, I fall to pieces_

* * *

The door shut with a soft thump behind me and I backed into it, closing my eyes as a wave of nausea struck me suddenly. It rolled through my stomach and pressed up into my throat, making me lift a hand to press against my mouth. And when he finally spoke, I squeezed my eyes shut and almost gagged.

“You know,” he said softly, his strange voice slicing through the dark and silence of the apartment like a knife. I flinched as if I had been cut. “Gotham isn't a safe place for a young girl so late at night. Someone could  _ snatch  _ you up.”

Yeah, there was no denying it now. I was going to puke. Drinking so much water so fast had been a bad idea. And so had coming back home.

“I’m going to throw up,” I mumbled, dropping my wallet and the nearly empty bottle on the table as I raced through the kitchen. Behind me, I heard his sigh of annoyance coming from the living room but decided to ignore it. I kicked the bathroom door shut just as my knees met the cold floor in front of the toilet. 

For the second time in less than 24 hours, I threw up for two wildly different reasons. But this time, it proved to be useful. I needed to get as much of the alcohol out of my system that I could if I was going to deal with what was currently sitting in my living room. 

Once I had finished and sat on the floor, coughing over the rim of the toilet, I lifted a trembling hand and flushed before struggling to my feet. I turned the faucet of the sink on and dipped my head beneath the stream of water, letting it pour into my mouth. The cold against my teeth made me cringe and as I swished a mouthful around and spit it out, I glanced at the bathroom door. It was bizarre how unafraid I felt. 

A part of me knew this would happen, though I didn’t know it would be tonight. I figured he would have drawn it out, made me wait and wonder for as long as possible. Maybe he was as tired of me as I was of him. Either way, there was no use hiding in the bathroom all night. It was only a matter of time before he came in to drag me out. 

I twisted the faucet off and spit the remaining water out of my mouth. I wiped my hand across my chin and wondered if I had anything to drink to get this taste out of my mouth. Nothing would help, but it was better than the cotton mouth I was left with. 

With a deep breath, I opened the door and slapped the switch to turn the light off. The apartment was plunged into darkness once again, with the only light coming from the streetlamps outside on the street. He was nothing more than a shadow on the couch and I refused to look directly at him as I made my way back into the kitchen. The rain was starting to fall harder now, tapping against the window panes.

It may have been stupid to turn my back to him, but I was so not in the mood for the games of torment tonight. All I wanted was to chug orange juice right from the carton. Which is exactly what I did. I turned it up and drank in as much of the cold, bitter juice that I could, and all the while, I could feel his gaze burning into my back. The mental image of him sitting there, patiently waiting for me to finish was almost laughable.

I sucked in a deep breath as I lowered the carton back into the fridge and slammed the door shut. Whirling around to face him finally, I folded my arms over my chest and cleared my throat over the sound of the rain. “What are you doing here?”

I saw the shadows of his hands move as he spoke. “I came to deliver the good news.”

Of course, he would answer with something as cryptic as that. Some of the alcohol must have still been in my system, making me feel more bold than normal around him. I crossed my arms over my chest and rolled my eyes. 

“That you’re finally coming to put me out of my misery?”

Joker stood from the couch with a laugh rasping from his throat. The sudden movement made my entire body tense up and I looked away, hoping he couldn’t see the nervousness in my face. 

“Why does everyone assume I want to _kill_ them?” I stared at him in disbelief. Was he seriously asking that or trying to make a stupid joke again? As he moved into the kitchen and pulled the chair out from beneath the table, my shoulders relaxed a bit. I watched him take a seat and unbutton the waist of his jacket. “I don’t _like_ _killing_ people that have uses and you...have use.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. Whatever use he had for me, I knew it wouldn’t be good. What use could I be to him anyway? Did he just want someone to play with, a mouse to torment while he was bored? Or was it something else? He had tried to convince me last time that it was  _ I _ who wanted something particular of  _ him _ , but I knew I couldn’t let him try to twist my thoughts. 

I didn’t want him. 

I shook the thoughts from my head and frowned at him across the kitchen from me. “What are you talking about?”

Watching him shrouded in the darkness was becoming unnerving. I wish I had turned the light on after all. His face was nothing but a shadow, though from the faint light outside, I could just make out the edges of his mouth and eyes and those scars. I watched them move as he spoke. 

“I think I  _ misjudged you _ during our initial interview.” I blinked at his words and felt my eyebrows raise almost to my hairline. “You were so  _ timid _ and  _ shy _ , you could barely hold a gun to my head without looking as though you were going to faint." 

He paused to chuckle and I rolled my eyes. Yes, I had been so scared that day I had nearly wet myself, and apparently, that was funny to him. As he sat forward and put his elbows on the table in front of him, he pointed a finger at me and I quickly glanced down to his fingernail and back up at his face. He smacked his lips before speaking.

“But now, just a few short weeks later, you're _stabbing_ people _left_ and_ right,_ _clawing_ their eyes and leaving them bleeding and in pain.” The corner of his lips stretched into a wicked smile that, even in the dark, had my stomach twisting into knots. “And you tried to tell me you were a pacifist." 

Well, apparently, Daryl had made it back to their little hideaway and had informed his boss about what had happened earlier after all. I shook my head and looked away from his face. That damn smile was infuriating. 

“He attacked me.” I could see him nodding out of the corner of my eye and he sat back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. It was clear that my explanation wasn’t getting through to him. “He was going to rape me.”

“And you sent him  _ running _ with his tail tucked between his legs like a wounded dog.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work.” God, I hated how my voice shook as I tried to sound strong and sure of myself. I knew he had heard it. He picked up on those little details and used them to rip me to shreds. 

He tilted his head to the side and stared at me. “ _ Oh _ ? And what’s that?”

Again, I rolled my eyes and leaned against the counter, right in front of that drawer with all of our kitchen knives. I didn’t think I’d be as slick this time. Joker was always aware of things like that. If I so much as tried to open the drawer an inch, he’d be on me. I frowned down at him and answered his question. 

“You think you're getting me to break down, that I'm changing myself but I'm not. I may have said I was a pacifist but I never said I wouldn't defend myself.” At this, he gave a nod and took hold of his jacket, straightening it around his shoulders. “I don't seek out violence like you and no matter how much you torture me and torment me and drive me insane, I never will. So this little game you're playing with me, won't work."

“Oh,  _ Natalie _ …” The way he said my name, the same as he always did yet  _ so  _ different as if it held so much more behind it this time, made my breath hitch in my throat. “The game hasn’t even started.”

Ice spread slowly through my veins and I clenched my hands into fists, digging my fingernails into my palms. Across the room, Joker stood from the chair and I couldn’t help cowering away. I pushed myself into the corner where the counter made an L shape. I could feel the fear widening my eyes and the urge to throw up returned. 

Slowly, he pulled his jacket open and shrugged out of it. I watched as he stepped back and draped it over the back of the chair he had been sitting in. As he turned back to face me, I could feel his gaze searing through me. I stared at his shoulders and those suspenders, following them to his vest and further down to his--my eyes snapped back up to meet his as he took a step toward me.

I heard him take a deep breath and I held mine tight. “After your short,  _ probationary _ period, I’ve come to the decision to bring you on full time.”

Wait.

What?

I blinked, my brows pinching in the middle of my forehead. “What?”

“You’re hired.”

The urge to laugh suddenly eclipsed my need to vomit but all I could manage was a quick scoff of disbelief. I shook my head and shifted on my feet. “Hired...for what?”

“I told you,” he said, his voice dropping in volume and tone. The deepness startled me and I lowered my arms to my side. “Everyone has their uses and you,  _ Ms. Jacobs _ , have something that I need."

His words made my entire body tremble and the breath I had been holding in was knocked from my lungs as if I had been hit. Every muscle along my back felt tight and ready to fight if I needed to but something else was happening as well, something I wasn’t expecting. As I stared at him, with his head lowered and hair framing his face, gaze focused on me with such intensity, I felt a strange heat climb through me. 

It started in my lower belly and lifted into my chest, smothering me from the inside. I could feel the heat of it creep up my face and my lips parted to take in a shaky breath. No. This was not happening. With a snap, my sensible side finally kicked in and extinguished all of the fire within me. I shoved away from the counter and put the distance of the room between us. I was surprised when he let me pass. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn to watch me move into the living room, putting my bedroom door at my back. When I faced him again, that look on his face met me once again. I could see it better now that he was facing the light from windows and it sent that wave of fever washing back over me. The rain made the faint light dance across his painted face. When I finally found my voice, it was shaking and I put a hand to my throat to steady it. 

“You can’t just come in here and do this. I don’t want your stupid job. I don't want anything to do with you!"

The dim light filtering in through the sheer curtains over the window lit his face enough that I could see the look of doubt on his face. It spread to his mouth as he slowly curled it into a smile and the longer I stared at it, the more furious I felt. I was shaking again, but for an all new reason. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone? Why are you doing this to me? I mean  _ nothing _ to you or to anyone! I'm on the verge of homelessness, I'm broke, and I am  _ not _ going to have sex with you or whatever it is you want me to do."

The sound of his laugh only fueled the fire of anger and wrath inside me and my fingers curled into fists at my side. It may cause him to slit my throat, but I wanted nothing more than to punch him at that moment. I glared as he wagged a finger at me.

"You're the only one that ever brings that up, Natalie. I'm flattered,  _ really _ , but that's not what  _ I _ want from you."

Hearing that was like having a bucket of water thrown on me, extinguishing all the fire of arousal that had been burning within me and leaving only the anger behind. I was furious with myself for being disappointed by his admission. Furious and absolutely disgusted. What was wrong with me?

With my teeth clenched, I lifted my glare to his face and tried to calm my racing pulse. “I don’t care what you want from me. I’m not doing it.”

The smile on his face slipped just a bit, just enough to scare me and I fought the urge to run as he took a step toward me. This close I could see him lick the sides of his lips and I wished it wouldn't affect me the way it was. It wasn’t fair.

I had forgotten how tall he was and even with his shoulders hunched, I felt as if he towered over me the closer he got. Still, I refused to back down against his intimidation tactic. I may have been on the verge of angry, confused tears, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing them. 

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Is that so…”

“Leave me  _ alone _ ,” I emphasized each word, each syllable, hoping that it would get through his thick skull. He was too close to me and the need to take a step back was becoming too strong to fight. I didn’t want him this close to me, didn’t want to breathe him in. It was inevitable though.

That acrid scent of burnt matches and something chemical filled my senses until I was dizzy from it. 

Joker tilted his head to the side, pulling my attention to him as he lifted an eyebrow. I watched his gaze fall down to my throat and before I could stop myself, I put a hand to the ribbon tied around my neck. I cursed myself for ever putting it on. I don’t even know why I did. Maybe I had been trying to prove something to myself. Whatever it was, I knew now how stupid it was. 

To my horror, he lifted his hand and I could only watch as he reached for my throat. My hand shot out and slapped his away out of instinct. Through the split-second contact of my skin on his, I could feel how warm his hands were and again, the surge of fire within me came back to the surface. 

He laughed at my attempt and held his hands up in surrender. That god damn laugh...I was so sick of hearing it. It was always in my head, always teasing me. With my teeth clenched tight, I stepped forward and put my hands to his chest, shoving him back with all the strength I had left in me. 

His laugh grew louder and I knew he was only stumbling back to humor me. There was no way I would be strong enough to hurt him but I didn’t care. I shoved him again. This time, he stepped back into the table, sliding it along the floor a bit, and stared down at me in amusement, as if this were all some joke to him. My misery was the punchline to a joke I would never understand. I breathed through clenched teeth, staring at him like a wild, cornered animal. At my sides, my fingers were trembling and I could feel the muscles of my arm tighten.

"You know, you're stronger than you look, Natalie. A little more  _ on the job training _ , and you might be able to--"

I slapped him.

It was beyond stupid, but I was blinded by my fury. Every syllable he uttered, only made it worse, and before the sentence could leave his mouth, I lashed out. My palm stung instantly from slapping him so hard and the sound--as satisfying as it had been--echoed through the sudden silence. He hadn’t even flinched. I stared at him with wide eyes and fought the dizziness filling my head.

Our breaths were matched and I could see his chest rising and falling in time with mine until he took a deep breath and once again, stretched his lips out into a grin. 

“ _ Hit _ me again,” he growled, his voice deep again. “Like you  _ mean  _ it this time.”

I did as he asked and slapped him even harder this time. All of the frustration and terror and exhaustion he had put me through the last few weeks gave me some added strength. In a strange way, it was cathartic, even though I knew it was going to get me killed. At least I wouldn’t go down without a little satisfaction. 

When he didn’t react to my second blow, I raised my hand once more and struck, though I never touched him. He caught me around the wrist and I gasped. The sudden movement sent my hair across my face and I stared up at him through a curtain of it, panting for breath. Heat spread from his fingers over my skin, leaving me scorched. 

I tried to wrench my arm free but it was no use. He jerked me by his grip on my wrist and my chest slammed into his. I grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and tried in vain to shove him away. It was impossible. He was far stronger than me and with a quick step back, he spun me around until the back of my thighs hit the table.

We were far too close to one another, his chest pressing against mine so that I could feel every breath he took and I stared up at him. I felt like prey who had finally got caught in the wolf’s mouth--a scared little rabbit who bit off more than she could chew. 

He lifted his free hand, making me flinch and brushed the hair away from my face. “Here I am,” he said breathlessly. “ _ Trying  _ to be generous and this is how you show me gratitude?” 

Somehow, I was able to find my voice. “I don’t want your generosity.”

He made a noise in his throat, a growl that sent tendrils of icy fear down my spine and I tried once more, in vain, to pull my arm out of his fist. “Oh, is that right? Well,” he whispered with a wicked smile stretching his mouth. From this close, I could see the pink of his tongue dart out as he licked his lips. “I'm not a mind reader,  _ Natalie _ . I'm gonna need you to tell me  _ exactly  _ what it is that you  _ want _ ."

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe or think. His words barely registered in my head. All I could focus on was how close he was. Every inch of his body against mine was like fire on my skin and I opened my mouth, trying to suck in a breath that didn't carry his scent. It was no use. He was everywhere.

"Hmm?" The sound of his voice made me finch and he jerked me by my arm again. "You don't want my generosity so  _ enlighten  _ me. I want to know what  _ Natalie _ wants."

I searched his eyes in the darkness surrounding us and though my body continued to struggle against him, unsure what else to do, my mind was completely frozen. On any given day, I could give him a list of a thousand things I'd want from him, the majority of which would be to get as far away from me as humanly possible but I couldn't think of anything at that moment. 

He stepped closer, though I didn't know how that was possible, and my legs parted to make room for his. By now, I was practically sitting on the table with him between my knees and I must have been a little drunk still because my eyes betrayed me. They fell to his mouth and the ridges of his scars on either side. I could smell the oil in the makeup he used. It was the smell of it that haunted me and I whimpered, my bottom lip trembling as I struggled to keep myself from speaking. I didn't trust the right words to come out. 

But he was waiting for my answer and I knew that right now, I was not in a position to keep him waiting. 

"I-I want…" God, I couldn't think. He was too close. His scent was clouding my head. I looked up into his eyes and felt as if he had punched me in the gut. It was the same look he had given me the last time we had been this close together. I could only stare up into it, entranced as my lips moved to speak. "I want you…"

I want you to leave me alone.

I want you to disappear. 

I want you to never look at me again. 

I could have said anything at that moment but I had stopped exactly where I wanted to. My confession disgusted me. How could I want someone who would be so cruel and so heartless? I didn't know the answer to that, or if I even wanted to know the answer to it. All I wanted, as shameful as it was, was to taste the paint smeared across his mouth. 

I wanted to taste the fire of his words and threats and I wanted it to consume me. 

He leaned toward me, ducking his head so he was level with me. I caught the satisfied smirk curling one side of his mouth and hated it. No. I hated how much I wanted to feel it against my lips. 

"I couldn't quite hear you," he murmured, his voice deep and rumbling between our chests pressing together. My eyes rolled back and I struggled against him. I just wanted my hand free so I could touch him. He kept me right where I was and my free hand was against the table to keep me from falling back onto it. " _ What _ do you  _ want _ , Natalie."

"I want you to kiss me." The words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop him and his chuckle turned me on more than I cared to admit. My lips parted and I lifted my face toward him, so close and too far away at the same time. I was desperate and he knew it. In a bold move that I would blame on drinking too much alcohol, I lifted my head to press my lips to his. And he surprised me by leaning further away from me, an infuriating smirk twisting the corner of his lips. 

The hold he had on my wrist loosened and I nearly stumbled off the table as he stepped away altogether, taking all of the heat and fire with him. I was left shivering and horrified and humiliated. I gasped and gripped the edge of the table to keep from falling forward, gaping at him, my mouth open in disbelief. 

He turned his back to me and casually plucked his jacket back up from the chair. The sound of the rain pouring against the building was all that I could hear and it was deafening. What the fuck was happening? He was just going to break me and then leave like I was a toy he had no more interest in? My head swam with shock and fury all over again and I tangled my fingers into my hair. Tears burned my eyes and I watched him through the blur.

Before he could slip his jacket back on and leave, I pushed away from the table. My feet carried me across the kitchen and I had no idea what I was doing, but I refused to just stand there and take this. The only thing I was aware of was that I would rather him kill me right now than for him to walk away after what he had done to me. 

My fingers curled around the fabric of his sleeve and I wrenched it back, turning him halfway toward me. He was more annoyed by me than surprised, and quickly wrenched his arm away from me, shoving me away in the process. I closed the distance once more and took hold of him again, pulling him back with all the adrenaline coursing through me. 

Joker made a sound in his throat, an angry snarl that normally would have terrified me. I was too furious to care now. Once he was facing me--at least halfway--I lashed out again. 

I slapped him, missing his face but managing to hit his chest with the heel of my palm. I felt my nails rake down his jaw and I lifted my face up to scream at him. "I fucking hate you! Just kill me already!" 

I grabbed his jacket and jerked it out of his hands, tossing it to the floor before he snatched my arm and bruised me with the force of his grip. I didn't care. Even one-handed, I wanted to inflict as much pain on him as I possibly could. He let me beat my fist against his chest only a few times before he took that wrist as well and forced my arms down to my sides. 

"Fucking do it!" I spat up at him. "Kill me so I don't ever have to see your face or feel your hands on me  _ ever _ again!" 

Joker easily lifted me off the floor and I barely had time to suck in a breath before he spun me around and slammed my back against the front door. The sudden movement blew my hair across my eyes and as he released one of my wrists, I stared up through the strands. There was a look on his face that I had never seen, and it frightened me in a way I couldn't imagine. 

I fully expected him to take out one of his knives and slit my throat right then, but he didn't. Instead, his hand was on my jaw and a split second later, I gasped as he captured my lips with his. He kissed me through my hair, too impatient to brush it away and I whimpered helplessly. I curled my free hand around the fabric of his shirt, no longer trying to push him away. 

He shoved my other arm against the door, raising it above my head, and in the second his mouth left mine, I shook the hair from my face. I was surprised by him kissing me again, almost more than the first time. Nothing obscured our kiss this time and I savored every second of it. 

There was fire and desperation immediately consuming me and I drank it in. With his hand on my jaw, he tilted my head to the side and stepped closer, deepening our kiss. My eyes rolled back into my head and I dropped my hand to the buttons of his vest. The top two popped free easily in my fingers but once I reached the third one, he had other plans. 

He reached down to wrap an arm around my waist and lifted me off the floor. My legs wrapped around him and he released my arm, letting me drop it to curl around his neck. The denim of my skirt bunched around my hips rather painfully but I ignored it. I couldn't think of anything other than the fact that this was actually happening.

Fuck. 

Who knew he could kiss like this? My toes were already curling and if I had been in my right mind, I would have been ashamed by the sounds I was making. I couldn't help panting and moaning, or the way my hands greedily groped at him. One hand snaked around the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair as I held onto one of his suspenders with the other. 

All of the disgust and hatred I felt for him moments ago had sunk deep inside me, and I locked it all away until this fire he was filling me with subsided. But I didn't want it to. The burn felt too good. 

Joker opened his mouth and I did the same, letting that bright red tongue touch mine. I could taste the face paint he had licked off of his lips and I moaned into his kiss. The sound must have been one he liked. He brought one hand to my throat and wrapped his fingers around it. I was afraid he'd choke me, but he kept his grip just tight enough that I knew it was there. 

Just knowing he held so much power over me, over my life, was turning me on. It frightened me. 

As he continued to kiss me, teasing me with a quick nip at my bottom lip, I pulled my hand out of the tangles in his hair and did something stupid. Slapping him and attacking him had been a mistake but this…

I traced the edge of his jaw with my middle finger, over the slight stubble on his face and up to the scar stretched across his cheek. My fingers were as light as a feather as I brushed them over the bumps and ridges. It was a quick touch, just to feel and caress but it had been enough. 

The hand at my throat tightened suddenly and painfully and my eyes snapped open. I sucked in a sharp breath as his lips left mine and blinked my eyes open in surprise. With his grip around my neck, he kept me pinned against the door long enough to step away from me. My feet hit the floor a second later and then he shoved me away from him.

I cried out, managing to put my hands out just in time to catch myself before I could slam into the kitchen counter. The sound of the door opening made me whirl around, one hand reaching down to push my skirt back around my thighs. He had snatched his coat up from the floor and I felt the need to say something-- _ anything _ \--before he walked out. 

"Wait--"

The door slammed shut behind him and I struggled to calm my pulse and catch my breath. I took a step toward the door and stopped myself before I could go after him. For some reason, I felt the need to apologize to him but...Why would I? 

I had nothing to be sorry for except enjoying the kiss we'd shared. It had been a mistake, just like every other decision I had made in the past 24 hours but still, I couldn't stop myself from reaching up to touch my finger to my lips. They were warm and a bit sore. I couldn't remember the last time I had been kissed. All I knew was it hadn't been anything like the one he had given me. 

Swallowing tightly, I crossed to the door and put my hands to it. I knew he was gone by now and there was nothing I could do. I should have been relieved he was gone and left me alive, but I was still reeling from what had happened. 

Still, I couldn't just stand there all night. I twisted the locks into place and hurried to my bedroom. The lamp on my bedside table switched on and I quickly snatched the gun off the bed where I had left it earlier that night. I half expected it to be gone and was relieved that he hadn't taken it. 

I would definitely be sleeping with it next to me tonight...if I slept at all. 

Standing in my bedroom, head fuzzy with confusion and the remnants of my desire starting to fade, I turned to face the mirror hanging on the wall behind the door. I stared at myself just as I had while getting ready to go out for the night hours earlier. My hair was wild around my shoulders, the ribbon was hanging halfway off my throat but all I saw was the smear of red paint he had left on my face. 

It was strange how our kiss had left a painted smile across my mouth. Strange, yet poetic in a twisted sort of way. Again, I reached up and traced the edge of my tender lips with my fingers. I wanted to hate myself more for what I had let him do to me, and maybe in the morning, I would.

Tonight though, I let myself smile. 

* * *

  
  
  



	14. Good Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday tomorrow, I thought I would post a new chapter as a surprise :) Hope you enjoy it because the next one is going to be a lot of fun...

* * *

_It started with a kiss_   
_One dose, your hand on my hip_   
_I know I'm in trouble now_

* * *

Somehow, I had fallen asleep close to dawn after spending most of my night alone, in my bedroom, replaying what had happened over and over in my head. Each time it did, it was more unbelievable than the last. I know the sun had started to peek out from behind the storm clouds that had lingered over the city during the night before I fell asleep, but I’m not sure how long I slept. 

All I knew was that it hadn’t felt long enough when I was jolted awake by the pounding of a fist on the front door. My heart was immediately in my throat, along with the hangover from the alcohol of the previous night and I jumped out of bed. Of course, with my head currently spinning and my thoughts too consumed by surprise I hadn’t realized that the sheets were tangled around my ankles and I fell to the floor.

My hands slapped the hardwood before I could smash my face into it and I let out a breath that smelled like a bad combination of alcohol and orange juice. God, I hoped it hadn’t smelled like that last night. The pounding at the door paused for a brief moment before picking back up and I groaned against the floor. “Hang on!” 

Shouting was a stupid idea. Not because it made my head feel like it was being drilled into with a jackhammer, but because I had no idea who was on the other side of the door. After what had happened last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if Joker did send someone to kill me. Especially after I had touched his scars and--

“Natalie!” A shrill, familiar voice shouted between the banging and I groaned again. Chelsea had returned and I completely forgot that the landlord had changed the locks on her. “Will you open the god damn door?”

“I’m coming! I just…” I shook my head and hurried to my feet. I took one step and the room tilted beneath me, making me grab the door frame to steady myself. “Just a second!” 

Fucking hell. I hadn’t realized how much I had drunk last night. Water and puking hadn’t helped a bit, and neither did all the kissing. If anything, it had only made my head spin worse. Even now, as I stared at the spot near the front door where he had pinned my arm above my head, I felt that familiar tingling all over my body. 

Just a few short hours earlier, we had been right there, tangled up in one another, and I honestly couldn’t say how far I would have let things go. In the heat of the moment, I had been desperately trying to undress him. The echoes of the noises I had made, the little gasps and moans against his mouth, repeated through my head and I put a hand flat against my fluttering stomach. 

Already, I was feeling hot from the memories of it.

“Nat!”

“Okay! God, I’m coming!” I hurried to the front door, twisted the deadbolt, and threw the door open. Red hair fanned across her face and she quickly blew it away as my eyes darted down to the things in her arms. Two grocery bags filled to the brim were in each arm and her purse was dangerously close to falling down her shoulder. I backed away to let her in and she dropped the bags onto the table--exactly where I had been sitting last night, my legs open to make room for-- 

I blinked myself out of the thought before it could spiral out of control and forced a smile at her. “Welcome home.”

“Yeah, what a warm welcome. I was standing out there for ten minutes,” she sighed and turned to face me, her eyes narrowed. “Didn’t you hear me knocking?”

“I, uh, had a late night.” Even admitting to that much made my cheeks turn pink and thankfully, she didn’t look at me for long. With a box of bland looking cereal in one hand, Chelsea pulled open one of the cabinets and started unpacking the groceries. For some reason, I felt the need to explain more to her. “Abby and I went out to celebrate. She thinks I’ll be able to come on full time with her at the catering company she works for.”

“What about the bank job?” She glanced at me over her arm as she packed away a few more items into the cabinets before turning to the fridge.

“It’s good to have options. Obviously I’ll take whichever pays more, but I’m not going to be a choosing beggar, you know?”

I watched her shove my carton of orange juice to the side to make room for her lactose-free, fat-free milk. The white carton, with the printed orange on the side, was yet another reminder of the previous night and I recalled the way I had stood in front of the fridge, gulping down mouthfuls of juice before I had spoken to him. Chills rolled down my arms and I quickly glanced over my shoulder to the couch, right where he had been sitting on the couch, hidden in the shadows. 

The sound of the fridge shutting made me snap my attention back to Chelsea as she finished unpacking her groceries. She eyed me for a moment, looking a bit suspicious, though I didn't know what she would even suspect me of. Did I look guilty of having a mass-murdering psychopath's mouth on mine? God, I hoped not. I was already ashamed of doing it. I would die if anyone found out I had. Or that I wanted it. And that I was still sort of wanting it. 

The thought made me swallow tightly and I forced another smile that had _guilt _written all over it. 

Chelsea crossed back to the table and pulled her purse toward her. I watched her dip her hand inside it before she pulled out a small, brown paper wrapped box tied with twine. It was a little longer than her hand and not much thicker than a box of cereal. She presented it to me and lifted her eyebrows expectedly. "This was at the front door. It has your name on it."

All of the color drained from my face and I slowly reached out to accept the box. Though I wasn't expecting a package, I already knew exactly who it was from. My fingers were shaking by the time I took it from her and she frowned. 

"What is it?" 

"I don't know." I didn't look at her as I mumbled. My focus was on the prettily tied bow of twine sitting in the center of the box. Again, my heart leapt into my throat and my stomach was tight with anticipation and something else; a mix between fear and arousal which was a bizarre combination of emotions to experience so early in the morning while nursing a hangover. 

Though Chelsea was waiting for me to open it in the kitchen where she would be able to see the contents, I turned and made my way to my bedroom, kicking the door shut with my foot. 

The box didn't feel heavy so I didn't think there was something that could blow me up inside it. Then again, I wasn't exactly an expert on explosive devices like someone else I knew. But would he really want to kill me because of our kiss, or my faux pas with his scars? Up until that moment, it was pretty clear that he was into the kiss as much as I was. 

Which was wrong. I shouldn't have been into it at all. It had been a mistake. The whole damn night had been a mistake and it would do me well to remember that.

With a deep breath, I sat on the edge of my bed and wiggled the twine off the box and tucked my finger into the flap of paper. It tore easily and inside was a plain black box with a lid. Carefully and cautiously, I pried the lid off, bracing myself for something to pop out and hurt me. When it didn't blow up in my face, I peered down into the open box and set the lid down on the bed beside my knee. 

There were cut up bits of paper that looked like it had once belonged to a magazine inside, to cushion whatever was in there, and I scraped at the top layer with my finger to search through it. My fingernail caught the edge of something hard, thin, and plastic. I pulled the card out and looked at it with a frown. 

It was a driver's license..._ my _driver's license to be exact, though none of the information on it was my own. My picture, taken two years ago when I had been going through my red hair phase, was sitting on the far left side, but the name printed on it was not Natalie Jacobs. 

Jaclyn Napier

F

Eyes: Brown

Height: 5'7"

Weight: 130lbs

I was beyond confused but flattered that whoever made this assumed I was 130 pounds. I hadn't been that weight since 9th grade. Why was this sent to me? 

My frown only deepened as my confusion grew and I looked back into the paper shavings inside the box. It had felt heavier than just a bunch of paper and a fake license. I dipped my hand back inside and quickly found what else was inside. My hand curled around a plastic, rectangular device and I pulled it out with wide eyes and a racing pulse. What the hell?

I looked down at the cell phone and swiped my thumb across it. Taped to the corner was a short string of twine and attached to it was a small note. The words on it were typed in that same strange font used on the card that had been left for me weeks ago. Which told me exactly who had left this package for me. 

With a sigh, I turned the note over so I could read it and swallowed at the words printed on it. _ Turn me on_. Simple, to the point, and enough to make the butterflies in my stomach flutter annoyingly. He clearly meant turn the phone on but I couldn't help thinking that it was a double entendre. Heat rushed to my face and I quickly slid back on the bed, pressing my thumb into the power button on the side of the device. 

The small, square screen lit with the device’s logo and I turned it over in my hand to inspect the back. It was definitely a burner phone; one of the cheap ones that my old weed hookup used to carry. More than likely, it was untraceable and would never be able to lead back to him. 

Once it had finished turning on and the service bars were full, a text message appeared on the screen. I blinked and hovered my thumb over the button in the center of the keypad. For some reason, I didn't want to open the message, too scared that it would be something cryptic that would only increase my paranoia even more. But I knew that not looking at it wasn't much of an option.

I no longer had options like ignoring him, though I never really had that option. Even before he had started all of this with me, he had plagued my thoughts with just a touch and his passing scent. Biting my lip to keep my thoughts _off _of him, I pressed the button and watched the text messages open up. 

The number wasn't stored into the phone of course but it was local to Gotham. I stared at the message on the screen, read it three times, and still felt confused. 

_ Get dressed_. 

Why were his demands always so short and to the point? Couldn't he offer just a _ little _bit of context to this? 

Before I could even stand up from the bed, a quick, sharp knock echoed through the apartment. I was on my feet before it had even stopped, my heart pounding like crazy in my chest. What the fuck? Was he _here_? Would he even knock if he was? 

Anytime he had been in the apartment, he had just shown up, invited himself in as though locks couldn't keep him out. With a hand pressed to my chest, I crossed to my bedroom door and threw it open. I could hear the shower going and a second later, Chelsea popped her head out of the bathroom and spotted me. 

"Can you get that? I'm already undressed." 

I nodded, but she was already shutting the door behind her. I turned back to the front door and blinked. The nausea returned to my stomach and I pressed a hand to it, gripping the cell phone tightly in the other. I had two choices, though only one of them would be the right one. I could call the police, tell them their most wanted criminal was at my door, and threatening to hurt me. They would be here in a matter of seconds--but then again...the cop I had spoken to on the phone told me not to call them with this kind of thing.

They wouldn’t believe me anyway.

Gulping down my fear, I crossed the small kitchen and ducked to peer through the peephole, fully expecting to see that tacky, purple coat. Thankfully, I saw nothing but black, though that didn’t reassure me much. Whoever was standing there was tall and wearing a black shirt so all I could see was their expansive chest. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” the deep, growling voice said, the sound muffled through the door but loud enough to make me jump backward. “Or I’ll huff. And I’ll puff.”

Jesus, who the fuck?

Keeping the chain secured, I twisted the deadbolt and opened the door just enough to peer out. And what I saw was enough to make me groan in regret. _ Daryl _. The cuts on his eyelids were satisfying and I was glad that one looked particularly nasty. I glared up at him, keeping my grip tight on the door to keep him from trying to force his way inside. 

“What the fuck do you want?” Despite my words, my voice betrayed me and cracked halfway through my question.

He leaned an arm against the door frame and peered down at me with an infuriating smirk that was just begging for me to scratch it off of him. Quirking his eyebrow, he let his gaze fall down to my chest, though he couldn’t see much through my baggy T-shirt. “I’ve come to collect you for your first job.” 

“What?”

“I know you got the package.”

I blinked. “Yeah, I did. All it told me was to get dressed.”

Daryl sniffed and backed away from the door, nodding his head toward my body. “Well, I suggest you do what you were told.”

Clearly, this wasn’t something I had a choice in the matter. Whether I wanted to work for this stupid organization or not, I was being forced to. Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “You’re going to have to give me a minute and don’t even think about coming inside. My roommate is home and she’s not as nice as my other friend.”

Daryl looked over my head into the apartment and grinned. “That’s alright. I like ‘em feisty.” 

“Ugh!” I moved to slam the door shut in his face but he kicked the toe of his boot out, stopping me. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, his grin widening into a smile that made me sick to my stomach. Again, his eyes fell to my chest and he sucked his teeth. “Wear something nice.”

“Eat shit.”

“Hey,” he said, backing away and holding his hands up in surrender. “That’s not my request. That came straight from the boss.”

Speaking of the _boss.._. What the fuck was he trying to pull sending Daryl of all people to my house? Was he wanting to provoke me again into doing something drastic? Or was this his way of washing his hands with me and dumping me down the chain of command? The thought made my skin crawl and I decided right then that I wasn’t going to go without that gun this time. 

Scowling at him through the crack, I shut the door and raced across the apartment to my bedroom. I knew that Chelsea’s showers were usually long affairs. She always shaved her legs, armpits, and exfoliated every square inch of her skin. When she got out, she would stand in front of the mirror inspecting her pores and so that would give me a good fifteen minutes to scramble around and get dressed. 

Wear something nice...What did that even mean? I was broke and he knew that. Nice wasn’t exactly a part of my wardrobe. He had seen me in the nicest outfit I had, which was why I reserved it for job hunting and interviews.

Wearing what I had on last night was out of the question. I couldn’t move freely in a denim skirt and there was no way in hell I was tying that ribbon back around my neck. No, he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing that today. 

I shook the hair from my face and turned to the rack of clothes wedged against the wall beside my dresser. My hands moved lightning fast, shoving the hangers to the side as I quickly inspected each garment. I had no nice pants unless you considered jeans nice, which I didn’t. All of my tops were a bit outdated and though I _ really _didn’t want to wear a skirt, the nicest thing I had was a sundress I usually reserved for dates.

Knowing it would be wasted on whatever this was made me roll my eyes but I plucked it from the rack and held the hanger up as I stared at the dress. It was olive green with spaghetti straps. The neckline was low and the chest just a bit tight around me, but the skirt flowed in three tiers, with the hem coming to about mid-thigh. I didn’t like the thought of showing so much skin so I grabbed a plain, white top to go beneath it. 

I threw it on in record speed, glancing at the mirror just long enough to make sure I looked halfway decent before I pulled my hair out from beneath the material and combed my fingers through it. Next came my shoes, a pair of simple, brown ankle boots that zipped up in the back. I had gotten them super cheap on the clearance rack two autumns ago and hopefully, they were still considered _nice_.

As far as hair and makeup, I was thankful that my eyeliner from the previous night was still in good enough shape to pass and my hair would just have to be fine. It wasn’t very straight anymore, with the strands around my face wavy from the water I had splashed on my face last night. But whatever. I didn’t care.

This was a job, not a date, right? So why were my hands so shaky and the butterflies in my stomach going insane? It was just nervous energy, I reassured myself with a deep breath. I snatched my purse, my new phone, and ID along with the gun I had taken from Daryl and walked out of my bedroom. 

Chelsea was just emerging from the shower and she opened the door to let the steam out. She had a towel wrapped around her chest and a scowl on her face as she combed her fingers through her wet hair. “Who was at the door?”

“Oh, um, nobody,” I mumbled, coming to a pause near the kitchen table. “I’m heading out with a friend. I should be back later.”

“Oh. Okay.” There was suspicion in her response, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I hurried to the front door, threw the strap of my purse over my head, and slipped out into the hallway.

Seeing Daryl standing there, leaning against the wall across from the apartment made me shudder. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him and I definitely didn’t want him walking behind me. With my hand clutching my purse to my hip, I narrowed my eyes on him. He simply smiled and held out a hand, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him. 

I turned and hurried toward the steps, hoping my head start would put distance between us. By the time I reached the stairs, he had caught up to me and I flinched as he gripped my elbow in his hands. I jerked away from him, but he held tight as we reached the first floor. 

“You just keep smiling and walking, darlin’”

His pet names infuriated me more than Joker’s. With my jaw clenched tight, I wrenched my arm out of his grip and backed away from him, pointing a finger at his face. “You stay the fuck away from me.”

Daryl rolled his eyes and hooked a thumb around the belt loop of his jeans. “Or what?”

“Or I shoot you in the face.”

“You still pissed at me for yesterday?” What a stupid question. Like 24 hours was enough time to forget and forgive him for attempting to rape me. “No hard feelings, pussycat. I know you girls like to play hard to get.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Can we just get this over with? I’d rather not spend any more time around you than I have to.” 

Again, his mouth stretched into a grin and he motioned for me to walk on in front of him. I did, but only after swearing to myself that if he touched me again, I was going to stick his gun down his throat and pull the trigger. Thankfully, I didn’t have to. 

Outside, parked on the curb, was another black, intimidating looking SUV with impossibly dark windows. My eyes scanned them anyway, though I couldn’t see inside the car. Was he sitting in there, waiting for me? The passenger side window rolled down and the driver leaned over to shout at us.

“Yo! Hurry up!” 

I did as he asked, only to get away from the man behind me and I wrenched open the back door and blinked in surprise. The back seat was empty and I tried to ignore my disappointment as I climbed in. Daryl slammed the door shut and climbed into the front seat. A second later, the SUV pulled away from the curb and headed toward the heart of Gotham. 

My fingers were gripped around the leather seat tightly and I glanced back and forth between the two men in the front of the car. After a few blocks, the driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror and I looked away quickly. 

“This the girl that stabbed Kenny?”

His question made my pulse race and I winced. With everything that had happened the night before, I had forgotten about what Daryl had told me about dear Kenny and the fact that I had been the one to kill him. Sure, it was my life over his, and I had only been acting in self-defense, but it didn’t stop how sick it made me. 

From the passenger seat, Daryl chuckled and turned to glance over his shoulder at me. “Yeah. Doesn’t look like a killer, does she?”

“She doesn’t look like anything special to me.”

“I’m _right _here. Do you have to talk about me like I’m not?”

The two guys laughed and I rolled my eyes, sitting back in the seat with my arms crossed over my chest. Assholes. Everyone involved with Joker was assholes. Maybe that’s just who he attracted...but then again, what did that make me? Not that he was attracted to me, or vice versa--_ ugh_. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him like that?

That kiss--no matter how much it turned me on--shouldn’t have happened. It made all those frustrating thoughts, the ones I had been trying not to think about the past few weeks, that much more confusing. How was I supposed to make it out of this situation alive if I kept getting blinded by this annoying, fucked up attraction? If that’s even what it was...I wasn’t exactly sure of anything anymore.

Looking out the window, I watched the streets pass us by and as the SUV stopped at a red light, I let out a sigh and faced the driver. “What is this job anyway? I’m not exactly a thug like you two.”

“Relax, pussycat,” Daryl answered, not turning to glance at me. “You do this and we’ll take you right back home afterward. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

“I’m not worried. I’m just not doing anything illegal.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to take that up with the Joker.” I didn’t know why but hearing someone else say his name was unsettling and I shifted in the seat. I glanced beside me and wondered if this was the same SUV that I had rode with him the night he had forced me into his fucked up little plans. The night he had touched me...the night he had turned me on against my will.

I bit my lip to keep from making a noise and pressed my legs together. It did little to relieve the building pressure between them and I rolled my eyes at myself. Why was I reacting this way? Was there really that thin of a line between hate and want? 

_ What do you want, Natalie? _

Joker’s voice echoed through my head and I clenched my jaws together. I hated myself for so much, but this...this was unacceptable. Getting caught up in the heat of the moment, with him up close and personal was one thing. Wanting him when he wasn’t anywhere near me? It was _wrong._

Suddenly, the car felt much smaller and I looked out the windshield to see where we were. Downtown Gotham was only a few blocks away and the glittering skyscrapers towered overhead. We were close to the financial district and I frowned when the SUV pulled over and parked at the curb. 

My eyes darted to the two men, but they simply sat quietly. I blinked and glanced around the car. What was going on?

“What are we doing?” I asked them, sitting forward slightly.

It was the driver who answered. “We’re waiting.”

“For what?”

He sighed but didn’t turn to look at me. “For instructions.”

I stared at him, waiting for more explanation. He kept quiet and I rolled my eyes. “Okay, so we just sit here?”

“Yes.”

“Why even pick me up if you didn’t have--”

The driver whirled around in his seat and I could see the gun he set down on the console between him and Daryl. His finger wasn’t on the trigger and I knew he was doing it to intimidate me. I hated that it worked. My mouth shut and I averted my gaze away from him.

“Don’t make me gag you. I know you think you’re something special, but Joker ain’t here so you’d be better off keeping your mouth shut.”

From beside him, Daryl chuckled and I pursed my lips, shifting so I could stare out the window to my right. After a few seconds, the driver turned back around and I was thankful that his gun was no longer pointed at me. What did he even mean, anyway? I didn’t think I was anything special and if Joker _was _here, I’m sure he’d be terrorizing me just the same. 

Another sigh escaped my lips and I let my gaze fall to the door handle. If I were to jump out of the car right now, would they pursue me? It would look awfully suspicious if two guys chased down a woman in broad daylight in the heart of Gotham. This city was a cesspool, but even that wouldn’t be ignored.

Glancing at the driver, I curled my fingers around the handle and held my breath. I had to be quick if I was going to run. With a jerk, I pulled the handle but it was locked. I spun to the knob on the door but it was already up. They had the child lock’s on.

Defeated, I fell back against the seat and glared at the driver as he laughed at my misfortune. “You didn’t think it’d be that easy did you?”

“Maybe I was just counting on you being that stupid.”

Again, he whirled around to face me and I narrowed my eyes on him as he opened his mouth. Whatever he was wanting to say was cut off by a shrill ringtone. I would have ignored it had my purse not vibrated against my leg at the same time. My phone was ringing.

I quickly dipped my hand into my purse and pulled out the device, but it wasn’t my normal cell phone. It was the one I had been gifted this morning and the number calling me was local and unsaved. My heart was in my throat and I glanced at the driver. He turned back around as my thumb pressed into the answer button.

I put it to my ear. “Hello?”

“_Good _morning, Ms. Jacobs,” the familiar yet strange voice said in my ear, making my stomach clench tightly. “Are you _ excited _ for your first day on the job?”

The car was suddenly too small and too hot. The leather beneath my legs stuck to my skin and I slowly peeled them off of it. I twisted in my seat and looked behind me and around at the people on the sidewalk. “Um…” It was all I could think to say.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy again. I need you to put all of that away and be a _ good girl _ for me today.” Fuck. I hadn’t expected the reaction inside me at his words and I clamped my teeth over my bottom lip as my stomach clenched tightly. “You can do that for me, _ can’t _ you?”

Did I have a choice? I knew that answer. “Yes.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you walk yourself down the block to the _ Gotham _ Savings and Loan on the corner.” A second passed and I waited for him to elaborate more. When he didn’t, I blinked and looked down at the screen to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. It hadn’t. “Get _ out _ of the car, Natalie.”

“They have the child locks on the doors. I _ can’t _ get out.”

The driver quickly threw open his door and wrenched mine open as well and I slid out, putting my feet down on the sidewalk. My eyes narrowed icily on the man waiting for me to step aside and when I did, he slammed the door shut behind me. I was expecting both him and Daryl to follow behind me and was quite surprised when he got back into the driver’s seat of the SUV.

Looks like I was doing this alone. Or...As alone as I could be with someone at my ear. I frowned and walked in the direction he had advised me and at the corner, a black building stretching upward about fifteen stories was the bank. 

“Are you still there?” I asked into the phone. 

His answer was quick and not what I expected. “Mmm,” was all he said and the sound of it made my steps falter. He sounded distracted, but that _mmm_ brought back so many little memories of the groans and whimpers I had made just last night against his mouth. 

“Okay,” I said quietly, stepping aside to let a man and his dog pass in front of me. “Are we going to ignore what happened?”

His sigh at my ear made me flinch. “Let’s just focus on _one _thing at a time, _ hmm_? I need you to be on your _ best _ behavior.”

Okay, now he was just being a little condescending. It made me roll my eyes and before I walked into the bank, I decided to stop on the sidewalk and just talk to him for a moment. I dropped my voice and waited for a couple to walk by before I spoke. “I’m not doing anything illegal here, am I?”

“Define _ illegal _.”

“You know what I mean. I’m not going to go in here and rob this place just because you want me to.”

“_Natalie _\--” I didn’t give him a chance to finish whatever he was going to say. Just hearing him say my name, emphasizing each syllable, was enough.

“I’m not afraid of you. If you want me to go in there and kill someone, or detonate an explosion, I’m telling you now, I’m not doing it.”

“_Natalie_.” He snapped, nearly yelling in my ear in that harsh voice that never failed to make me flinch. Another sigh and he spoke again. “As much as I adore explosions and _ forcing _ you into situations with them, _ some _ things require a more subtle, feminine _ touch_.” 

There were far too many words he had said that ignited a reaction within me. Was he using words like _touch _and _force _on purpose or was he just being his usual infuriating self? It was so hard to tell now. I knew he was possibly doing it to chip away at me, and it was so frustrating because it was actually working. 

Swallowing, I tilted my head back and looked up at the name of the bank displayed above the front doors. “What do you want me to do?”

“Mmm, now _ that’s _ more like it.” Oh yes, he was definitely doing it on purpose now. “It’s simple, Ms. Jacobs. Just walk up to the first teller and give her your name. Your _ new _ name.”

Ah, so that was the purpose of my new ID. Taking a deep breath, I pushed into the front doors and was met with a blast of AC. It made goosebumps ripple up my legs and I resisted the shiver that followed it. There were about six tellers to the left and an office right inside the doors where a loan officer sat at her desk, typing away. 

I knew I was standing there like a lunatic, but I realized that a gun was in my purse, a gun that was not registered to me, and if I were caught with it, Joker wouldn’t exactly come to my rescue. I eyed the security guard standing near the front counters and slowly moved closer to the tellers. The first one had a line of two people waiting and I fell in behind them. It wasn’t long before the first customer stepped away and I moved up. 

From the next bank teller at the counter, a chipper voice caught my attention. “Ma’am? I can help you down here.”

I stared at her, unsure of what to do. He had told me to go to the first teller. Did that mean the first teller available or the one at the first counter? The woman looking at me blinked and I opened my mouth to respond. He beat me to it, speaking in my ear.

“Don’t keep her waiting, _ Natalie _.”

Jesus, could he _see _me? I didn’t like the thought of that, but I cleared my throat and took a step toward the woman. She smiled sweetly and folded her hands over the desk. “I-I’m Jaclyn Napier.”

The woman’s eyes lit up, surprising me. “Oh, yes! I’ve got the papers for you to sign in my supervisor’s office. Give me one second to go get them.” She jumped out of her chair and disappeared into a hallway. As soon as she was out of earshot I pressed the phone to my ear. 

“Can you _ see _ me right now?”

The soft laugh I heard didn’t help cool the sweat building at the back of my neck. I hated being nervous, but nervous _and _frustrated, was too much. I felt like I was going to pass out if I had to keep this up for much longer. 

“I can see how short that dress is.” And that didn’t help one bit. I gripped the counter in front of me and bit my lip to keep from whimpering. “You were supposed to wear something _ nice _.”

Ugh. 

“This _is _nice. I don’t exactly have the funds to shop for a nice wardrobe, nor did you give me much of a heads up that this was happening.”

He let out a scoff, though it could have been a sigh, and I stood up straight as the woman came back into view. A small stack of papers was in her hand and she laid them on the counter in front of her as she took a seat back on her chair. She snatched a pen from a cup to her left and placed it on top of the papers before sliding them into the tray beneath the plexiglass barrier toward me.

“Your husband called ahead to transfer your funds--” My eyes darted up to stare at her in surprise. Did she just say _ my husband_? “--you should be able to access the account as soon as we process your paperwork. Say, in about an hour or so.”

“My husband,” I repeated, blinking at her. 

Again, she nodded with a cheerful smile and pointed a finger down to the papers. “Your signature is needed on the first two pages, the fourth page and the fifth. The last page is yours to keep and it shows the transfer amount and just the basics of the savings account.”

She was giving me no time to process any of this and I cradled the cellphone between my ear and shoulder as I pulled the papers toward me. I quickly signed my name--my _ new _name, though it was difficult coming up with a signature on the spot--to each line she told me and once I reached the last page, I slid the papers back to her and glanced down to the page that I kept.

The legalities didn’t catch my eye. The amount transferred into the account, however, did and I had to bite my tongue to keep from shouting ‘holy fuck’ out loud. It was the only thing I could think and I repeated it several times in my head as I stared down at the number of zeros on the page. 

2.9 million dollars.

Two-point-nine _million _dollars. 

I was definitely sweating now. I could feel it build up beneath my armpits and along the small of my back and my eyes lifted to the woman across the counter from me. I shifted on my feet and tapped the toe of my boot on the floor, needing to let out some of this pent up nervous energy. It was going to explode if I didn’t. 

With a quick glance over the pages, the teller flashed another smile and stapled the stack together. “Would you like some checks, Ms. Napier? They won’t be personalized, but I could put in an order and send them out to you by the end of the day.”

This time, my mouth stretched into a smile and I nodded. “That sounds perfect. I would _ love _ some checks.”

At my ear, I heard a small growl of disapproval but it wasn’t enough to wipe the smile off of my face. The teller nodded and turned away again. She wasn’t gone very long this time. When she returned, she had a small booklet of checks. “There are only ten in this book, but the ones we will send have fifty in them.”

“Oh, do you have the ones with little poodles and kittens on them? I just love them.” Joker cleared his throat and I heard that growl again, so deep and right in my ear. It was enough to give me chills and I waved a hand at the woman, knowing I was poking a sleeping bear. It was just too satisfying to pass up the chance. “You know what, it’s fine. My _ husband _probably wouldn’t want that.”

I thanked her again and took the small book of checks before turning back to the door. I knew that money wasn’t mine, and that I would never see that amount of money again in my entire life, but I was much more confident walking out than I had been walking into the bank. The security guard nodded to me as I passed and once I was back outside on the sidewalk, I couldn’t help laughing.

“What the _ fuck _ was that? My _husband_? Three million dollars?”

“As I said, _ some _things require subtlety.”

“You could have warned me. I’ve only ever seen that much money in math equations. I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming.” I let out another laugh and turned toward where the SUV was still parked down the block. “So...who’s my husband?” 

The call ended with a beep and I glanced down to stare at the screen. Well, that was rude. Apparently, he was a little touchy about being teased, but could he really blame me? After all the shit he had put me through, I was owed a little teasing, I think. Now that the job was done and I was going back home, I couldn’t help being a bit curious about the account I had just opened.

What was it for? _ Who _was it for? Oh, god...did he really have a wife and he needed me to impersonate her? It would make what happened last night that much more fucked up and I hated that I felt a strange mix of disappointment and jealousy at the thought. Rolling my eyes at my own stupidity, I hurried back to the car and slipped into the back seat. As soon as the door was shut behind me, the driver was pulling away from the curb.

Neither of them asked me what had gone down and I was glad. I didn’t know if I was allowed to tell them or not. I leaned over and looked out the windshield. We were heading in the opposite direction we had come, but maybe the guy was looking for a place to turn around. He put his blinker on to go south and I frowned. South was _not _the direction in which I lived. In fact, it was the opposite direction of my apartment.

South was close to the Narrows, close to the industrial district where that warehouse was. I glanced between the two men in the front and cleared my throat. “I thought you were taking me home after the job.”

“Change of plans, pussycat,” Daryl said with a hint of amusement in his voice. As he turned to grin at me over his shoulder, I swallowed down the sudden nausea that started to spike inside me. “Looks like your job ain’t over.”

Oh, god.

What the fuck did that mean?

If they weren’t taking me home...then where were they taking me?

* * *


	15. Too Far

* * *

_You're taking it too far_   
_Getting more than I paid for_

* * *

In the past four weeks, I had been terrified, stalked, tormented, kidnapped, and kissed all by one man. Well, his cronies helped as well, but they were following orders given by him so the point still stands. And though I had replayed every detail over and over in my head after each new thing that happened, I couldn’t exactly recall how I had gotten to this point.

Sitting in the back of the SUV, trapped on all sides by child locks and psycho predators in the front seat while we drove through the streets of Gotham, I had a while to think about things. No, my life wasn’t flashing before my eyes again--I’d already come to terms with my shitty life two weeks ago. What I did try to think about was what was going to happen next.

Apparently, I had done my job so well that Joker wanted me to do another one and I had absolutely no idea what that could entail. I already told him I wouldn’t kill anyone and I wouldn’t let him make me an accessory to murder again. One time was enough for me. Thankfully, I was fairly sure that he wouldn’t kill me after making me sign those papers today.

I was going to be kept alive for that to play out, whatever it was. But that gave me no clues as to what the hell he had up his sleeve now. I didn’t know whether it was a bad thing that I wasn’t terribly frightened or not. Compared to the day he had tossed me in that van and put a gun in my hands, I would say that I was handling my current situation well. 

Occasionally, Daryl and the driver of the SUV would discuss where they were going and from what I heard, I assumed that they were making a pick-up and I was just along for the ride. What they were picking up and from where I had no clue. I didn’t want to know. 

The less I know the better. 

And I was pretty sure that’s exactly how Joker felt too. He kept me out of the loop just enough that I had no idea what was going on or what he was planning. It was simultaneously frustrating and relieving, but it left me thinking more about  _ him _ and less about what he wanted from me. Which was the opposite of what I should have wanted and I crossed my arms over my chest to stare out the window on my left.

We had been driving for nearly half an hour and I knew it was no use trying to get answers out of tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum in the front. Anything I asked, Daryl would give me that stupid smile, call me  _ pussycat _ and the guy driving would ignore me. 

I took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh, glancing down at myself. My purse was sitting next to me on the seat and though I had the gun, I didn’t know what to do with it. Pointing it at them and forcing them to stop the car ran through my mind several times, but what good would it do? They would just be waiting on me by the time I got back home, or worse--they would barge right in and terrorize Chelsea.

She may have been a bitch, but she didn’t deserve that. Apparently, I had pissed someone off in a past life and karma decided that  _ I _ deserved it, though. 

I shifted on the leather seat and tugged the skirt of my dress down as far as it would go, just in case Daryl looked back and decided to leer at me again. A dress had definitely been the wrong choice, but like I had told Joker, this was the only nice thing I had. At least he had noticed my effort and the length of the dress.

Of course, I shouldn’t have had this kind of reaction to him noticing that. Why should I care that he noticed anything about me or what I was wearing? 

Again, I shifted in the seat and watched the nicer businesses and neighborhoods of the city fall away to give room to short, squat buildings, and warehouses. The sight of them made my stomach clench and I studied each one passing by, trying to find anything familiar. 

The click of the blinker pulled my attention back to the front of the car and I frowned. We were turning right, moving deeper into the industrial areas of Gotham and I bit my bottom lip. Anxious anticipation was eating at my insides and I cursed myself for not peeing before I had left the apartment. Hopefully whatever warehouse they planned to toss me into this time had a bathroom. 

With another right turn, the SUV pulled into a side street running alongside a four-story warehouse with a sign painted on the side.  _ Industrial Plastics _ . It didn’t look familiar and the parking lot the car slowed into was not the same one I had seen last time.

This must be the pick-up place. 

I pressed my face closer to the window and looked up at the windows running along the top of the warehouse. Fat clouds of gray smoke billowed out from a few stacks on the roof and I could smell a faint odor that made my nose wrinkle.

“Wait here.” The driver said, stepping out of the SUV before shutting the door behind him. I spun in the seat and watched him move to the back of the car where he pulled a black duffel bag out of the back. Without a backward glance, he shut the back and set off toward the warehouse. Wait. He was just leaving me here with--

Daryl turned and looked back at me, making me clamp my legs together and clutch my purse closer to my side. He chuckled and shook his head, shifting on his seat to face me. In his right hand, I could see he had found a new gun. This one was bigger than the one I was in possession of. It was blocky and with my limited knowledge of guns, I figured it was an automatic. And one that I would not stand a chance against.

He curled his two fingers on his left hand and nodded to my purse. “Let me see what you got.”

“No.” 

The sound of his amused sigh made my jaws clench and I tightened my grip around the strap of my purse. I wasn’t about to let him take my only weapon against him, but I didn’t have much of a choice. In a flash, he snatched the bulk of my bag and ripped it out of my hands. To my horror, he dumped the contents into the floor between his legs.

He took his gun back, wedging it into the space between his back and his belt, and rifled through the rest of my things. I could only stare in quiet fury as he held up a tampon between his fingers. “You raggin’?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah I am.” 

A long time ago, I had taken a self-defense course in high school for women and girls. The instructor had been a man, but was sweet and did show us some good tips. I couldn’t remember a single fighting move or stance, but what I did remember was him telling us that if we were ever being snatched up or raped, to piss on ourselves or if we could, vomit on them. Something about it distracting the attacker or turning him off.

I had to pee, but I wasn’t going to piss myself just yet. So I lied and hoped he was the kind of guy who would be turned off by period blood. 

Daryl laughed and dropped my things back into my purse before tossing it back at me. I barely caught it without spilling it everywhere and he looked back at me. I could feel his eyes on my legs before I saw them and I pulled my skirt back down around my knees. 

“What? You think I’m gonna try something?” 

“Judging by the last time we were alone together, I’m not taking my chances.”

Again, he laughed and faced the front. He drummed his dirty fingers along the dash and ducked to peer up through the windshield. “Relax. Not like we have enough time to enjoy ourselves anyway.”

For some reason, when it came to these dangerous, murdering madmen, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. It was a compulsive need to smart off to them since I had no power physically. Sneering at him, I snapped back. “The only thing I would enjoy would be to watch you slowly sink to the bottom of a river.”

“That right?” He asked, clearly distracted by whatever he was looking at. I almost leaned forward to peer up through the window as well, but I was surprised by his quick laugh. “And what about Joker?”

“What about him?”

“He does all this shit to you,” he said, turning to stare at me. The darkness in his eyes was disturbing and I swallowed my nervousness. “And you let him.”

Was he serious? “I  _ let _ him?”

“What? You got a thing for freaks like that? His face--” Daryl motioned to his cheeks with his middle finger and I narrowed my eyes into a glare. “--turn you on all fucked up the way it is?”

A million things popped into my head to say to this cretin, mostly insults and curse words, but none would come out of my mouth. I sat there, stammering in complete disbelief that he would make judgments about me based on absolutely  _ nothing _ . As if I were the one asking for all of this to happen to me! As if I  _ wanted _ to be tormented for weeks by a psychotic man in clown paint! 

“You are seriously out of your head if you think I asked for  _ any _ of this.” It was too similar to the way Joker had tried to convince me that it was  _ me _ seeking  _ him _ out. I didn’t want to hear this from someone else. I hated that it was in my head as it was. “What is it with you assholes? Do you all get together and think of the most outrageous ways you can fuck with people’s heads? You’re all a bunch of assholes!”

“You’re telling me that there’s nothing going on with you and Joker?”

I scoffed, shaking my head to look away from him. “Of course not.” 

Even as I said it, I heard the slight tremor in my voice because I didn’t believe my own words. As soon as they were out of my mouth, I was reminded of last night and the way he had shoved me back against the door. I felt the ghost of his hand around my throat, of him lifting me off the floor and my legs wrapping around his waist. It left me feeling feverish, even now.

“Good.” Daryl’s voice dropped in tone and I quickly jerked my head back to face him. Seeing him open his door and get out of the SUV sent panic surging up into my chest. My heart leapt into my throat and I crushed myself against the window, watching as he adjusted his pants, shut the door behind him, and took two steps to the back. 

He opened it and I wasted no time. I launched out of the seat and scrambled over the console between the passenger and driver’s seat. He pawed at the back of my legs, one hand gripping the fabric of my dress and my underwear. To my horror, I felt the seam on the side of my panties tear. 

I reached out and grabbed the steering wheel, using it to haul me out of his grasp. My other arm landed on the horn and I pressed it down. Daryl readjusted his grip and wrapped an entire arm around my thigh, pulling me with all of his strength. I held tight, still pressing the horn down. Hopefully, the other guy would hear and come running. 

“Get the fuck  _ off _ me!” I screamed, leaning to the side so I could wedge one leg up between us. The heel of my boot caught him against the jaw and neck and the look on his face was satisfying but far too short-lived. With a final tug, he jerked me away from the steering wheel, and my face smacked hard against the console.

Pain erupted through my chin and I knew instantly that my teeth had sliced my bottom lip open. The metallic taste of blood was all over my tongue in an instant. 

Daryl slid me onto the seat and shoved my skirt up around my hips and I knew now that I was going to have to piss myself. Besides, I was too terrified to hold it in anymore. Before I could let it out, and before he could rip my panties off, a deep voice called out from the warehouse. 

“What the fuck!” 

The man between my legs snarled in annoyance and pulled away from me to poke his head out of the car. He sighed and his hands fell away from my legs, letting me scramble back away from him. While he was momentarily distracted by the driver shouting at him, I launched myself into the front seat and threw the door open. 

I didn’t care what Joker had in store for me. There was no way I was going to stay anywhere near these creeps. 

Shouting broke out and I could hear Daryl curse as he raced around the car, but I was already running. Unfortunately, I ran right into the other guy and he caught me easily, spinning me back around. “Whoa, little girl. You’re not going anywhere.”

I struggled against him, kicking my legs out and using all of my strength to pry his arm away from me. It didn’t work. He brought me easily back to the SUV and Daryl opened the back door for him. I fell halfway between the floorboard and seat and he shoved my legs in before slamming the door shut. 

“What the fuck did you do?” His voice was muffled by the car door and I scrambled back onto the seat. 

“Nothing. She just went psycho.”

I slid to the window and banged my fists against the glass. They both turned to face me and though the windows were too tinted for them to see me, I screamed. “He attacked me! He tried to rape me  _ again _ !” 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the driver said, pointing a finger into Daryl’s sour face. He looked angrier that he had been stopped than for what he had tried to do to me. “Get the fuck back in the car and you better hope she doesn’t tell Joker about this.”

Oh, I was definitely going to tell him about this. I was going to give him and his little bastard goons a piece of my mind. If it meant me finally getting shot in the face, then so be it. I was tired of them tossing me around and forcing me into situations that terrified me. And if he didn’t do something about Daryl, then I would. 

I may have been a pacifist, but I was going to take great pleasure in seeing him suffer. They both got back into the car and again, the driver glanced over his shoulder at me. He cursed beneath his breath, reached over to the glove box, and grabbed a napkin before tossing it over his shoulder. I let it fall to the floor.

Blood was dripping down the corner of my lips and I could taste it oozing out of the cut I had gotten from bashing my face on the console. There was no way in hell I was going to wipe it up and clean myself off. I wanted  _ him _ to see what they’d done.

“Did you make the payoff?”

“Yeah, I did.” He cranked the car and shook his head. Without a backward glance, he whipped the SUV around and we drove out of the parking lot. “I didn’t have a lot of time thanks to you and whatever the fuck happened. But yeah, they’re going to set the charges according to the plan.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. Through my limited knowledge of typical bad guy villainy in movies, I could only guess that ‘setting the charges’ had something to do with explosions. I let my head fall back against the seat with a roll of my eyes and watched the warehouses pass by once more. Whatever the Joker was planning, I just hoped I was far away from it when it went down.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long way and such a short chapter but the next one will make up for it....I hope ;)


	16. Break Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Hope you're doing well...This chapter contains a lot of NSFW themes. Check the tags, please. Most of them will come into play this chapter and I don't want anyone getting into anything they're not prepared for. If any of the tags bother you then...well, I'm not sure this story will be right for you and I apologize for you getting this far into it. Again, Check. The. Tags.

* * *

_I know this love will tear me to pieces_   
_I know his hands will dig up my secrets_

* * *

By the time we pulled onto another long stretch of road leading around a series of warehouses, after twenty minutes of riding in awkward silence, I was furious and about to bust. And as much as I was prepared to use my bodily functions as a defense mechanism, I didn’t want to piss myself in front of Joker.

I already felt like an idiot around him most of the time. No need to add anymore embarrassment to that. Then again, I shouldn’t have even cared what he thought of me. I should have been wanting to turn him off, to make him disgusted by me. What I  _ should _ want and what I  _ did _ want though were two completely opposite things by now and I didn’t have the energy to be angry about it anymore. 

As soon as the two bastards in the front got out and my door was opened--thankfully  _ not _ by Daryl--I was stomping toward the door with my purse at my side. I didn’t need anyone carrying me inside this time. The two men standing guard by the door stepped in front of me, one holding a hand out to stop me from getting close.

“What? Do you think I have a gun or something? Where would I keep it?” I held my hands out at my side and rolled my eyes as one of them stepped forward. His hands patted down my side and back, and I had to hold back the urge to gag while he opened my bag. After the incident at the other warehouse not even half an hour ago, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to be touched. Once they were satisfied that I wasn’t carrying any weapons on me, they stepped aside and I shoved the door open. 

The immediate interior of the warehouse was dark and it took several blinks before my eyes became adjusted to it. I knew the office was to the right, having spent hours locked away there the last time I was dragged to this place. I turned on my heel and went left, determined to find him and yell at him in front of all of his men. 

That had been the plan, but wasn’t what happened. 

A hand snatched me by the elbow and spun me back around. The toes of my boots scraped along the dusty concrete floor and I cried out at the bruising grip on my arm. It was the driver hauling me away this time and I stumbled to keep up. 

Daryl made his way into the warehouse behind us and I was thankful to see him stalking quickly away. I glared after him and for the second time in my life, I was shoved inside that dark, dingy office. I managed to keep myself from falling to my hands and knees this time but by the time I whirled around to snap at the guy, the door was slamming shut. 

I ran to it and beat my fists against the metal. “I have to pee, you assholes!”

My shouting was ignored, which was no surprise to me, and I let my forehead fall to the chipped, gray paint on the door. The pain in my lip was still stinging and I reached up to touch it with a wince. Around the edge of my bottom lip, the blood was already starting to dry and a few flecks chipped away at my touch. 

Behind me, there was a sharp click and light flooded around my feet. I whirled around and blinked in surprise at the sight of  _ him _ standing at the table across the room. He kept his back to me, staring down at an unrolled pile of blueprints laid out before him. The corners were being held down by various knives and the sight of them made me swallow nervously. 

Before he could turn around and face me or open his mouth and piss me off, I reached into my purse and gathered the fake license and cell phone he had sent me this morning. Despite every fiber in my being telling me not to, I walked up to the table and tossed them both down onto the blueprint he was inspecting. 

I couldn’t tell what it was, but it looked like the interior of a large, multi-storied building. There were several different floors drawn out with white lines but I didn’t care about it. I didn’t want to know about anything he was doing. 

Joker slowly reached out and picked up the license I had thrown down and I squared my shoulders, knowing if I let him speak first, he would say something that would make me too nervous to say what  _ I _ wanted to say. So, I didn’t give him a chance. 

“I’m not doing your little jobs anymore. I’m not going to be Jacklyn Napier and I’m not going to be in charge of a savings account that I’m sure is illegal. I don’t want your cell phone, or your attention, or your time. I’m  _ done _ .” 

He lifted his head and the badly dyed green strands of hair fell away from his face. I made the mistake of looking into his eyes and I wanted to flinch. I quickly looked away from his gaze, instead focusing on his lips and that was just as big of a mistake. They were painted and pursed, though I couldn’t see much annoyance behind his face this time. 

It was more like he was waiting for me to turn and walk away. When I didn’t, he smacked his lips and moved toward me. Out of instinct, I backed away, putting as much distance between us that I could. He ignored me and instead reached down to grab another rolled-up blueprint from the stack on the ground beside the table. 

I watched it unfurl and he set the knives down on each corner to keep it flat. This one was for a block of the city instead. I could see a bridge and roads and the sewage system running underground. My curiosity got the best of me and I stepped closer, peering down at it while still trying to keep my distance from him. Still, I looked up at him and blinked. Why was he ignoring me? Was he in the middle of his little schemes and couldn’t be bothered to even acknowledge me? 

Crossing my arms over my chest, I leaned back and narrowed my eyes on the side of his head. Why even bring me here if he was just going to be like this? As he picked up a red Sharpie and circled several places on the blue page in front of him, I took a deep breath to speak again. 

“Your little minion that you sent to pick me up, the one that  _ attacked _ me yesterday, did it again. He tried to rape me in the back of the car today.” Joker remained quiet but smacked his lips, letting just the tip of his tongue trace the corner of his mouth. I threw my hands up in the air. “Why the hell am I even telling you? You’re not going to do anything about it. It’s not like you care about anything except whatever this is.”

I gestured down to the table just as he reached back into his coat, pushing the length of fabric aside so he could pull something out of the waist of his pants. Seeing the gun didn’t surprise me but I took a step back anyway. He dropped it onto the table and flashed a blank smile that had none of his usual, twisted humor behind it. 

“It’s  _ your _ problem, Natalie. Take the gun and  _ do _ something about it.”

I was both astounded and not at all surprised by his response. Of course, he didn’t care about me or my problems. Did I ever think that he would? I hated that a small part of me had hoped he would. Glancing down at the gun on the corner of the table, I wondered what he would do if I snatched it up and actually did something about my problems. 

Shooting Daryl wouldn’t solve the one thing causing most of my problems lately. Slowly, I lifted my eyes back to meet his and hovered my hand over the weapon. The tips of my fingers were trembling and I sighed, knowing I didn’t have the balls to do anything that brash. 

He scoffed and turned away as if he had never expected me to actually do anything. Maybe he had been hoping I would have, just like I hoped he would want to do something  _ normal _ for me. With a roll of my eyes, I crossed my arms over my chest and turned away from him, pacing a few steps away.

“Can I leave?”

“And miss all the  _ fun _ ?”

“You and I have very different definitions of fun.” I turned to face him and noticed the slight shrug of his shoulders as he chuckled. “You and I are very different,  _ period _ .”

“ _ Oh _ , I disagree.” The marker squeaked over the paper once more. “I think you and I have a  _ few things _ in common.”

I wanted to ask him to elaborate on that, but something in his tone was making me nervous. This wasn’t the typical Joker I had become used to--or about as used to that one could possibly become with someone like him. He seemed irritated and darker. Usually, he would have laughed at me or made a joke that I would never understand. 

The sound of the cap clicking back onto the marker made me blink and I let my arms drop to my side. Again, my curiosity got the best of me and I quietly cleared my throat to speak. “Like what?”

“Well,” he started, tossing the marker onto the table before turning to face me. “We both  _ frustrate _ each other.” His hands clenched into fists to emphasize his word and I glanced down at his fingers. The leather gloves were gone and I could see streaks of white paint on his hand. “You’re too preoccupied with  _ resisting _ me and  _ I  _ want to  _ break _ you.”

Fuck. What did that mean? Okay,  _ now _ I was nervous and I still had to pee. The pressure on my bladder was almost unbearable and if he kept this up, I was definitely going to piss myself. Taking a step back, I put my hands up in front of me. “Look, I’m sorry. I just want to use the bathroom. Can I at least do that before…”

I trailed off, not sure what I even wanted to say. Before we do this thing all over again--before he kills me or  _ breaks _ me. 

Joker dropped his hands to his side and rolled his eyes as if my bodily functions were beneath him. He moved toward me and I braced myself, tensing every muscle in my body. When his hand took hold of my arm, I was embarrassed by the tiny yelp I let out. In two quick steps, he hauled me to the door and pulled it open.

I realized that it hadn’t even been locked. Why hadn’t I even tried to open it? 

He hauled me out of the office and let go of me, making me stumble to catch my balance. “ _ Ms _ . Jacobs needs to use the  _ restroom _ .”

I spun to look at where a few of his goons were sitting around, doing nothing. One started to stand but I put a hand up. There was no way I was going to let Daryl take me to the bathroom. “If you come near me, I’ll kill you.”

The other men all laughed at my threat and I was relieved when, after several seconds passed, the guy who had been driving earlier tossed his cell phone down on a table and crossed the room. He took me by the arm where Joker had let go of me and I rolled my eyes. Were they not aware that I was capable of walking by myself?

As he led me down a narrow hallway toward the back of the warehouse, I heard the office door shut once more and I looked over my shoulder. Joker was gone, disappeared back into the room, and I wondered if I could get away somehow. Maybe there was a window in the bathroom I could crawl out of.

There wasn’t. 

It was basically a closet and a total wreck. The tile floor, which had once been white but was now a dingy brown, was broken in several places and the sink looked like it was seconds away from crumbling away from the wall. I could see the pipes behind the drywall and there was a faint squeaking sound coming from the hole. 

“Jesus,” I mumbled as the guy pushed me inside and slapped the light switch. It didn’t offer much light and I hugged my arms around my waist. The door shut with a sharp click behind me and I reached down with the intention of locking the door but of course, there was no lock. Scowling, I turned back to face the toilet and grimaced, almost too afraid to even look at it.

Using the tip of my boot, I pushed the lid up and carefully peered over the seat. It wasn’t as bad as I feared it would be with the only stains being in the actual bowl. Still, I used the hover method to pee. It was quick but relieving and I stood up, adjusting my panties and my skirt. I didn’t want to flush just yet. I needed a few minutes to gather my thoughts.

They were so jumbled, so disoriented from the past two days, that I couldn’t focus on anything for too long. I just wanted to go home. And not to the apartment I shared with Chelsea. I wanted to go  _ home _ , far away from all this. Just thinking about my childhood bedroom, the stuffed animals that my mom had kept on my bed, the posters and pictures of my adolescent years hanging on the walls, made my heart ache.

If only 15 year old Natalie, who had dreamed about living in the city, falling in love, and living the perfect life could see me now. She’d be terrified--possibly join a convent to prevent it all from coming true. She would be confused and disgusted by who I am now, by the things I had done and the things I foolishly wanted to do for some reason. 

A fist pounded on the door, jerking me out of my thoughts and I jumped nearly a foot in the air. I put a hand to my chest to calm my racing pulse and raised my foot to flush the toilet. I ignored the sink, opting not to even attempt to wash my hands in it. Not like it would matter in a place like this. As soon as I opened the door, I was hauled once more through the warehouse. 

Back through the office door, I was released and it shut behind me with a rattle of the thin, metal walls on either side of it. Joker was right at the table like he had been before, except he was wearing a few fewer clothes now. I spotted his coat draped over the arm of the dingy couch, with his green vest and that tacky tie laying on top of the pile. My eyes widened at the sight of them and I suddenly felt as shy as I had been at 15 years old. It felt too intimate seeing him like this.

Despite the only light source being the lamp directly in front of him on the table, I could see enough of his back to stare at the Y shape of his suspenders stretching down between his shoulders, bunching the fabric of his shirt. I followed it down to his pants and I tried not to notice his legs, but it was impossible. They were so long and despite the slightly baggy material, I could make out the shape of them beneath it.

I cleared my throat after a few minutes and quickly looked away from him, turning to the couch where I had fallen asleep the last time I had been held prisoner here. I crossed the room and sat down beside his jacket. His vest was draped over the top of it and I could see the shiny, pearl buttons that I had been desperately trying to unfasten the night before. My fingers tingled at the memory. 

With a quick glance to make sure he wasn’t looking at me, I curled my fingers around the material of his coat and carefully lifted it off the couch. I leaned down and put my nose against the lapel, feeling the brush of fabric against my cheek. The smell I breathed in was dizzying and I couldn’t help letting my eyes roll back in my head as it filled my senses. 

God, it was so strange. Fire and gasoline and  _ sweat _ . I never knew they could smell like this, or that they would make me feel like this. It was wrong and disgusting and I should have been grossed out. I was ashamed that I wasn’t. Alarms were ringing in my head suddenly and I dropped the coat and sat up. My eyes darted to him and I was relieved to find his back still toward me and his head hunched forward as he studied whatever plans laid out in front of him. 

His smell was still in my nose, assaulting me, throwing my arousal back in my face like acid. It burned through me, suffocating me, and I felt that familiar burst of panic prickling like needles in my chest, pushing through the warmth consuming me. I slowly stood to my feet and wrung my trembling hands in front of me. 

“Can I please just go home? I don’t know what you could possibly still want from me.” Joker’s head lifted, but he didn’t turn to face me just yet. I watched his hands slide to the edge of the table and fall to his sides. My head was a mess of chaotic thoughts and I didn’t know which one to focus on. “I honestly don’t know what you’re even trying to prove with all of this, or with me. I don’t want you or whatever you think. I-I don’t even know your name, for fuck’s sake.”

This time, he turned slowly on his heel and as his eyes met mine, I felt the need to shrink myself down and disappear. “_Y_ _ es _ . You do.”

“Joker is  _ not  _ your name.” It felt strange just saying the name out loud. I don’t think I had ever even said it before, especially not to him. Blinking the sting of tears away, I swallowed and shrugged my shoulders. “I just don't know what you want from me…"

He turned his head slightly to the side but kept his gaze burning right into mine. I watched his lips part before averting my gaze. I didn’t want to see his tongue, didn’t want to be reminded of how it tasted. I watched him out of the corner of my eyes as he took a few steps toward me. I backed up until my heels hit the couch behind me. 

I wanted to be as strong as I had been last night and fight back, to scream and curse at him, but most of that had been the alcohol clouding my judgment. All I felt now was fear and shame and that fucking  _ burn _ over my skin from just being close to him. It made it hard to breathe properly as if he carried fire with him that sucked all of the oxygen from my lungs. My chest rose and fell quickly and I knew he noticed it. 

As he stepped closer to me--far too close--I put my hand out and sucked in a breath at the line of buttons on his shirt pressing into my palm. I closed my eyes and pushed against him, stopping him from coming any closer. 

“Do you  _ really _ want to know what I  _ want _ , Natalie?” His voice was rough, barely a whisper, and it made the muscles between my legs clench tightly. “I just want you to  _ admit _ what I’ve known from the moment I first saw you trembling like a  _ little  _ kitten. Behind those  _ eyes _ \--” the sharp flick of a switchblade made my eyes snap open and I sucked in a breath and stared at the steel as he lifted the blade to my chin. It was sharp but didn’t break the skin. He pushed the tip into the flesh of my jaw, just enough to make me tilt my head back and stare up into his face. “There was  _ so much _ you were telling me. You were just  _ begging _ for me to tear you to pieces.”

Okay, this had gone on too long. It had to stop before I did something stupid.

I clenched my jaw and pushed against him. Unlike last night when he had laughed and backed away when I pushed him, he remained exactly where he wanted to be. I refused to look away from him, despite how terrified I was. For some reason, I was still holding onto the need to stand up to him, to show him that I hadn’t given up yet. Even though, at that moment, I was fairly certain I had. I was furious with myself and furious with him for doing this to me but I didn’t know which was the stronger emotion surging through me--fury or desire--as his dark eyes moved down to my lips. It was maddening.

“Go fuck yourself.” My voice was feeble, barely a whisper, and totally unconvincing.

Joker nodded and took the knife away from my chin, only to move it to my lips and I froze. He hooked the curved tip of the blade around the corner of my mouth and ducked his head to be level with my eyes. “You’ve got quite the  _ dirty _ mouth, Ms. Jacobs. I  _ wonder _ what dirty things you could do with it.”

Every muscle in my body tensed as my blood ran cold and I stared up at him with my eyes wide. My fingers slowly curled around the fabric of his shirt to hold me steady while my knees trembled. I could feel his muscles beneath my hand, though I had already suspected they were there. He was too strong to be as scrawny as he made himself look. The blade tilted downward, pressing into the cut from my tooth earlier, and I winced. To my surprise, he slowly pulled it away from my face altogether and closed it with a click that made me jump before he smacked his lips and spoke.

“Would you like to know what I can do with  _ mine _ ?”

All of the air left my lungs at once and I parted my lips in surprise. In an instant, filthy thoughts filled my head and a familiar, burning ache pressed against my lower belly from the inside. It slowly sank between my thighs and no amount of pressing my legs together would relieve it. I was in need of a different kind of relief. 

Without waiting for my answer, Joker closed the distance between us but didn't kiss me. He bent down, cupped his hands around the back of my thighs, and lifted me in one, quick motion. My legs parted and circled his waist and I had no choice but to grab hold of his shoulders. I curled one hand around the suspender strap while clenching the fabric of his shirt in the other and held on tightly. 

The press of his hands on my backside, over my panties but beneath my skirt was terrifying. He gripped my flesh tightly and kept me pinned in place against him. I could feel the button of his pants and the clasp of his suspenders digging into my inner thighs but I couldn't think beyond forcing myself to breathe in and out. 

This close to his face, I could feel the warmth of his breath on my throat and I once again felt the urge to touch his scars. I had learned my lesson last time though and kept my hands exactly where they were. So distracted by how close we suddenly were, I hadn't realized he had even been moving us across the room until my ass touched the table. 

All the blueprints he had been inspecting moments ago crinkled beneath my weight and I had to put my hands down to keep from falling back. He reached one hand behind my head and sank his fingers into my hair, his nails raking over my scalp. 

I tried not to, but I couldn't help my eyes rolling back in my head or the soft little sigh I let out. I knew he didn’t deserve to hear something as delicate as that come out of my mouth. His grip on my hair tightened at the sound and the slight pain made me flinch. It parted the fog in my head just enough to bring me momentarily back to my senses. 

How did this keep happening? It was like I blinked and suddenly, here we were. Wasn't I just angry at him, telling him to go fuck himself? It wasn't fair that he could cloud my judgment so easily like this when I had no power over him whatsoever. I felt helpless and powerless and--

Joker used his grip on my hair to pull me forward, just enough to close the distance between us again. This time, he kissed me and if I hadn't been sitting down, my knees would have buckled out from under me. 

He kissed me like he wanted to devour me, stealing my breath away and leaving me feeling dizzy. His lips were so soft yet firm, holding all of the control as he leaned my head to the side so he could fit better against my mouth. When his tongue touched mine, giving me a taste of the paint he licked off his lips, I brought my hands to his chest and found my way back to his suspenders. 

I pushed them down his shoulders and was relieved when he pulled his arms free before quickly taking hold of me again. To my disappointment, he broke our kiss before I had a chance to even savor it, but he put his hands on either side of my head, cradling my jaw as he exposed my throat. 

Somehow, it felt just as good to have his mouth on my neck as it felt to kiss him. He knew exactly where to kiss and suck to make me tremble. Just beneath my jaw, he licked; at my pulse point, he sucked; where my neck met my shoulder, he nipped. The sharp sting of his teeth made my eyes snap open and my lips parted in a gasp.

"Shit," I hissed, my fingers tightening around the material of his shirt. The deep chuckle he let out, right where he had bitten me, vibrated through my flesh and I shivered. 

As he continued to show me what his mouth could do on my throat, his hands slipped down over my shoulders. He pulled one strap of my dress down and I knew in the back of my head that I couldn't let this happen. This was so wrong. He was my tormenter, the subject of every nightmare I had had the past few weeks. What was I doing?  _ Why _ was I letting him do this to me?

But of course, all of that dissolved entirely when his hands found my hips and he slid me easily to the edge of the table, making a mess of his plans beneath me. He moved his body closer, pressing right against my center, and again, I sucked in a sharp breath, and heat rippled through me. 

He was hard, but I wasn't surprised. Hell, I was certain that I was absolutely dripping by now. What did surprise me was his size. It had been a long time since I had been fucked and the last guy I was with hadn't been very well endowed. 

Joker was definitely going to break me. One way or another.

Hearing him growl against my throat snapped me back to reality and I blinked in surprise. His hand scrambled over the table beside me until he found a knife and he expertly flicked it open with one hand as he pulled his mouth away from my neck. 

I stared up at him, noting that his face paint was smeared across his mouth but was too distracted by the blade he held to dwell on his makeup for too long. He brought the knife to my throat and I let go of his shirt, reaching for his wrists to keep him from cutting me. Thankfully, it wasn't my neck he wanted to slice but the thin t-shirt I had put on underneath my dress. 

He pulled at the neck and dragged the blade down easily through the fabric, the sound of it ripping louder than I was expecting. Once it was open far enough, he ripped it the rest of the way with his hands and my jaw dropped. My dress stayed covering my chest but I was too stunned to notice it. 

He gave me no time to recover before his mouth was on mine once more. He caught me open-mouthed, one hand grabbing the back of my neck to keep me from trying to get away from him, while the other found its way to my dress. The material was tugged down my chest and I felt the air against the flesh of my breast above my bra. 

Before I could even realize what was happening, I was letting him slip the straps of my dress down my arms and pulling them free. It was too hard to think through the dizzying effects of his kiss. My head was spinning and my body was trembling with terror and that delicious anticipation of what could come next. But it was the terror that took hold of my senses and I pushed his shoulders, stopping him from going further.

“Wait,” I breathed, shaking my head and backing away from his kiss. “I can’t.”

“ _ Why _ ?” he growled, dipping his head to nip at the flesh of my shoulders. The sharp sting of his bite made me wince and I curled my fingers around his shirt sleeves. “Don’t tell me you’re holding onto some  _ archaic _ sense of chastity, that you’re too  _ good _ for this.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed against him again, but he didn’t budge. “I just can’t, J--” His name was on the tip of my tongue but I clamped my lips shut before I could utter it. It didn’t matter. He had heard me, had noticed my hesitation and I could feel his mouth stretch into a grin at the side of my neck. 

With a slight tilt of his head, I felt the warmth of his breath against my earlobe and fought the shiver that raced down my spine. “Go ahead,” he whispered. “ _ Say it _ .”

No. 

I didn’t want to. I couldn’t. It was too much.  _ This _ was all too much. I shut my eyes and leaned my head back as he continued to bite and suck at my throat. “Please…”

“Say it,  _ Natalie _ . I want to hear you say  _ my name _ .” All of a sudden, he pulled away and stared down at me, making my eyes snap open. He wasn’t grinning or being cheeky like I expected. There was a darkness in his gaze that pierced through me and left me breathless. “Of course, I can always  _ make _ you say it.”

Down the center of my chest, I felt the cold steel of his knife and gasped, gripping his shoulders to try to push him away from me. He didn’t budge. He dragged the tip of the blade down between my breasts until it met the strip of fabric between the cups of my bra. Before I could even whimper a sound of protest, he captured my lips once more and silenced me. My hands were sore from holding so tightly onto his shirt and I could feel the determination within me start to slip away. 

A quick scrape of his fingernail on the flesh behind my bra, a slice of the blade through the fabric, and a satisfied groan that rumbled in his throat was all it took. My bra fell away and suddenly, to my horror, my chest was bared. My eyes snapped open wide and all I could see was the curtain of painted hair hanging across my face.

Joker pushed the remnants of my shirt and bra over my shoulders until it fell to the table and out of instinct, I let go of his shirt to cover myself. He snatched both of my wrists and pushed my arms away until they were both pinned behind my back. When he broke our kiss, I was breathless, staring up into his face with wide eyes and tender lips.

His gaze dropped from my face to my chest rising and falling with each breath and I could only watch the scarred corners of his mouth curl into a grin. There was barely any room between us, but that didn’t stop him from bringing a hand to my chest. I expected to feel the warmth of his fingers against my breast and when I felt the cool, hard steel of the blade still held in his grip, I sucked in a breath.

The sound of my gasp must have delighted him. His eyes narrowed and he dragged the tip of the knife across my flesh, catching momentarily on the tight bud of my nipple. A sharp sting made me clamp my teeth around my bottom lip and Joker’s gaze lifted back to meet mine. 

I hated how aroused I was by the sight of his makeup smeared across his mouth and knowing it was on my lips as well only turned me on more. 

“Say it,” he repeated quietly, the deepness of his voice startling me. My eyes closed and I bit harder on my lip, opening the cut and making blood seep out once more. 

I could feel my tongue forming the syllables of his name but my voice was nowhere to be found. All I could do was pathetically shake my head and silently beg him not to make me say it. The tip of the blade dragged deeper into the soft flesh beneath my nipple and suddenly, I was able to find my voice in a sharp cry of pain. 

Joker breathed in the sound of it and I whimpered--a sound caught somewhere between a sob and a moan. The muscles along my shoulders, down my back, and to my thighs were trembling. Each one was pulled tight as I tried to hold myself steady while he still gripped my wrists behind my back and kept me pinned against him on the table. 

As my breath hitched in the back of my throat, Joker dropped the knife even lower. Down my stomach and over the material of my dress bunched around my waist. His fingers and the knife disappeared beneath my skirt and I would have clenched my thighs together to stop him if he wasn’t still positioned between them. 

Every inch of my body trembled violently and I was lost. Utterly lost in the terror, lost in the desire. I couldn’t do anything except let this happen.

Oh, but it wasn’t like I would even stop it if I could.

My eyes opened to see him still staring down at me, patiently waiting for me to give in to his demands and say his name. From everything I had experienced with him in the past, I knew he wasn’t a patient man and sooner rather than later, he was going to force the word out of my mouth. 

A breath froze in the back of my lungs as I felt the back of his fingers brush against the flesh of the inside of my thighs. On one side, his hand was hot and on the other, the blade was cool against my skin. 

“ _ Say it, _ Natalie.” Joker dipped his head closer to me, his hair falling around my face. “I want to hear it come out of that  _ filthy _ mouth.”

“ _ Please _ \--”

“What was that?” The hand keeping my wrists pinned behind my back fell away and I gasped as it found its new home around my throat. “Are you begging me to  _ stop _ ?”

The black paint around his eyes only made his gaze darker and I could feel it pierce through me sharper than any knife. I searched his eyes but found nothing but the sinister desire that left me feeling as if I were on fire. 

“No,” I managed to whisper in response.

“Then what are you begging for,  _ Natalie _ ? Tell me what you  _ want _ .” 

The words repeated in my head over and over and I felt torn down the middle. My body was acting on its own accord, writhing and trembling with the anticipation of his touch and my head...It was a jumbled mess of chaos. Nothing made sense in the fire and destruction he left inside me and for several seconds, I could only open and close my mouth around the silence.

But I knew what I wanted, even though I couldn’t admit it. 

It was what I had wanted for a while now.

My eyes closed and my voice crept out from its hiding place. “I want you.” It felt so good and so dirty to say it out loud. And when my eyes opened to meet his, I gave in. “ _ Joker _ .”

The grin was slow to curl the corners of his mouth but I couldn’t help letting my stare fall to his lips to watch it. And despite the pounding of my pulse and the tremors still rolling through my muscles, I let him guide me away from him. The grip around my throat never faltered and I leaned back on my elbows. I could feel the edge of the blueprints beneath my arms but ignored them.

Between my legs, Joker took one finger and hooked it around the stretch of panties, pulling the material until the edges started slipping down my thigh. Tension and desire sat heavy in the pit of my lower belly and I let my head fall back.

Once my panties made it to my knees, he abandoned them and resorted to making quick work of them with the knife. The garment fell away from one side and hung around my leg on the other but I had no time to worry about a ruined pair of panties. 

Joker pulled my legs further apart and returned his fingers to my center.  I could feel the edge of the knife pressing into my hip and I squirmed against it. I knew I didn't want him to cut me, but I didn't exactly try hard to get away from him. It was as if he had taken control of me and the thought wasn't as frightening as it should be.

The cloud of my desire was making it hard to think straight.

I couldn't see anything beyond the need to feel his fingers sink into me. The grip he held around my throat tightened just enough to make a jolt of panic race through me but he left me enough room to breathe. Because I would need it.

As his fingers pulled away from me, I sucked in a breath and snapped my eyes open. Fear trickled through me. Fear that he was going to walk away and leave me here like this, vulnerable and exposed and desperate. Before I could even lift my head to make sure he wasn't laughing at me or planning to stab me through the heart, I recognized the familiar sound of a belt buckle.

Suddenly, an all new fear raced through me. My heart beat so fast it was almost painful and I could only lay there, trying to come to my senses while my body refused to let me. This is what I wanted, what I begged for...and I wasn't going to let anything stop it.

But through my desire induced insanity, the clouds parted and I was granted one last moment of clarity. What the fuck was I doing?

Panic spread like ice through my chest and I could feel it stealing my breath away, gripping my lungs and not letting air in or out. My fingers gripped the paper beneath me and crinkled it. The edges of my vision were blurring and I realized that I was about to let a man who had been terrorizing the entire city--terrorizing  _ me-- _ for the past few months fuck me!

I had no time to react, no time to stop this.

Joker took his place between my thighs and I sucked in a single breath despite his hand around my throat and there was no more time to do anything. He pushed into me and I cried out from the feel of being stretched around him. I quickly brought one hand up to my mouth, covering it to keep my sounds quiet.

I didn't want anyone to hear. I didn't want any evidence that this was happening and yet, I didn't beg for him to stop.

Without giving me long enough to adjust, he pulled back and slammed into me all over again and I hated how good it felt. My fingers tightened around my mouth but he wasn't happy with that. He swatted my hand away and held it down against the table before leaning over me as he pushed his length inside me.

"Ah, ah, ah," he breathed, letting me feel the warmth of his words against my cheek. "I want to hear  _ all  _ of those  _ filthy _ things you want to say, Natalie." I whimpered as his hands clenched around my throat. "So  _ say it _ . Let me hear it."

All I could manage was a single, whispered word. " _ Fuck _ ."

" _ Ah, there _ it is."

Again, he pulled out until I was sure he would slip out of me altogether before he thrust inside me once more. And it was then that I realized this was his way of letting me adjust to him. Joker brought his other hand to my face and I saw the reflection of the light catch the knife. The tip touched the wound on my bottom lip and I hissed at the sting of pain.

Above me, he grinned and dragged it across the cut once more and I could feel the sudden trickle of warmth drip down my chin. With the swipe of his thumb, he smeared the blood across my jaw and used his grip on my throat to lift me from the table.

I was helpless--nothing but a plaything to him. Still, I didn't stop him as he tilted his head and captured my lips in a kiss. I didn't stop him and instead, kissed him back with as much intensity as he had. Whether he could taste the blood mingling with the makeup on his tongue, I wasn't sure. I could, and it disgusted me how much I liked it.

Never breaking our kiss, he thrust harder into me, jarring the bones of my hips with each one and I was trapped between my terror and need for more. I kept one hand on the table to steady myself and gripped the sleeve of his shirt in the other.

It didn't matter if I was quiet or not. With each thrust inside me, the table knocked against the wall and anyone outside the room would be able to tell exactly what was happening in this room. Shame and humiliation lit my face and I squeezed my eyes tighter.

Would all of his men snicker and laugh? Would they talk about how much of a whore I was and hope they could have their turn when Joker grew tired of me?

Tears stung the back of my eyelids and I turned my head away, finally breaking our kiss so I could suck in a deep breath. I had hoped he wouldn't notice the drops seeping from the corner of my eyes, but he brushed them away with his thumb as he pounded harder into me.

"Oh, shh, shh, shh," he soothed, though it did no good to hear. "No tears,  _ Natalie. _ "

I opened my eyes and peered up at him through the haze of angry tears. Joker ducked his head and hissed against my ear.

"This is what you  _ wanted _ , remember? What you  _ begged _ for." The combination of his words and the feel of his cock moving in and out of me made me hate myself. I hated how the tension that had been pooled inside me was sinking lower and coiling tighter. Yes, I was getting what I wanted.

And he was getting what he wanted.

I nodded and used the grip on his shirt sleeve to bring myself up to him. At first, he pulled away and there was a sudden flash behind his gaze that I didn't recognize. He gave me no time to dwell on it before he masked it quickly and pressed his mouth to mine, keeping his fingers tight around my throat--tight enough to leave bruises.

With a groan against my mouth, Joker pulled me closer to the edge of the table and ignored my gasp of surprise. From here, he fucked me harder in an all new way and fire licked at my insides. It was as if from the moment I had first seen him, first  _ smelled _ him in that penthouse, this had been building. Every time he spoke to me, every time he terrified me and confused me and chipped away at me, was one more step closer to this moment.

He had been right all along.

Joker's hand tightened around my throat to the point where I could feel his fingernails digging into my flesh. At one time, that would have disgusted me. Now I welcomed the pain of it.

I drank his kiss in, never wanting to taste anything but the strange, bitterness of his face paint and the sharp tang of blood. My breath was growing shallow from the pressure of his hand but I ignored the burn for air in my chest.

Each time he thrust into me, I could feel tiny tremors of pleasure ripple through me and I didn't want to stop him from giving me more. The race of thoughts in my head was fuzzy and I couldn't focus on anything aside from getting relief from this burning ache within me.

It's all I wanted.

And though I knew that tomorrow, I would hate myself and I wouldn't be able to look at myself, I didn't care.

This was what I wanted.

I whimpered into his kiss and though it sounded as if it were far away, I could hear my moans and the hitch of my breath between them. Fire filled every corner of my body and left me with no room for anything else. The muscles of my thighs quivered around his hips and my toes curled.

I needed to breathe but could find no air and my mouth opened as he pulled away just enough to peer down at me. Through the haze clouding my vision, I could see the corner of his lips twisted into a smirk and that was all it took.

The coil of heat and desire broke within me. Pleasure poured through me in wave after wave and I let my head fall back in a silent cry. The room tilted on its side and I felt the table at my back before I realized I was even falling.

Joker kept his pace in time with my orgasm, thrusting into me with every pulse and spasm of that torturous pleasure. He hooked one arm beneath my leg and let go of my throat, finally letting me drag in a shuddering breath that expanded my chest so quickly, my shoulders arched off the table.

Every tense muscle in my body relaxed all at once and I was left feeling like a ragdoll in the wake of my orgasm.

A doll that Joker wasn't through with yet.

Somehow--though I wasn't too sure he had ever abandoned it in the first place--he had that same knife back in his hands and the blade was cool against the underside of my breast. He traced a line down my ribs and to my navel, never letting up the relentless pace of his cock. With my hands free, I reached up to tangle my fingers into my hair.

I was coming down off my high, but not enough that I hated myself yet. I still wanted this--still wanted more.

The sharp sting of the blade across my flesh, right beneath my navel brought a hiss from my lips but he didn't stop. I brought one hand down to his wrist but for some reason, I did nothing to push him away. It wasn't enough to truly hurt me, though I'm sure he wanted nothing more than to hurt me.

It was just a small cut, something I would remember this by. Something to brand me.

I tried to imagine what shape he was carving into my flesh but his sudden, erratic pace distracted me. I opened my eyes and peered up at the ceiling, careful not to look at him. For some reason, it felt wrong to watch him...like I wasn't allowed.

Instead, I let him fuck me as hard as he wanted to, in any way he wanted to. I was his toy--his plaything to do with what he pleased. The thought made me close my eyes but not out of disgust or fear. I clamped my teeth over my lower lip, once more tasting the bitter taste of my own blood, and listened to his shuddering breaths.

It was the only sound he made as he fucked me. The knife had fallen away from my stomach and his hand moved to my hip, gripping me through the material of my dress still bunched around my waist. His fingers dug hard into my flesh and even through the many wrinkles of my dress, I knew I'd be bruised afterward.

Joker's hips slammed into me and I could feel the steady pace he had been keeping up slowly coming unraveled. He used the one arm beneath my leg to bring me closer to the table and I sucked in a sharp breath as he buried himself as deep inside me he could go and then...he stilled.

My lips parted as I felt the twitch of his cock inside me and like a sudden flood breaking through a dam, terror rushed through me. I sat up on my elbows and stared down at where our bodies met in horror. He just...

Joker didn't let the thought even fully form in my head. He brought his hand--the one still gripping the knife--back up to my throat. His thumb tilted my head back and I blinked up at him in shock. The grin that slowly spread across his face made me scowl and my eyes narrowed into a glare.

"Oh,  _ Natalie _ ," he purred, making me try to pull my face away from his hand. He held on tight and forced me to look at him once again. "There's that  _ look _ again."

This time, he let me wrench away from him and he took advantage of the moment my head was turned to slip out of me. His hand fell away from my leg and I tipped forward, barely catching myself against his body before I could fall to the floor. He chuckled, the sound too close to my ear and I quickly turned my back to him before pulling my dress up around my chest.

The remnants of my bra and t-shirt laid in a crumpled heap on the table and I snatched them away from his stupid plans. When I stood up, slipping my arms into the straps of my dress, I felt a familiar trickle of warmth seep out of me and drip onto my thigh. I grimaced and whirled around to face him.

It was surprising to see his suspenders still hanging from his hips and the wrinkles in his tacky shirt, but what stopped me from saying anything was the sight of him straightening his blueprints. They were creased and a bit damp from sweat but he didn't seem to care. He simply placed his knives back on the corners to keep them straight and peered down at him like we hadn't just fucked on top of it all.

"So, that's it?" He lifted his head and stared at me, waiting for me to continue and I rolled my eyes. "What the fuck? I-I don't get it! I really don't get it."

One strap of my dress fell down my shoulder and I snatched it back into place. Joker's gaze flickered down to my throat and across my chest and I folded my arms over my chest. "Was that not what you wanted?"

I opened my mouth and immediately closed it again. Pursing my lips, I tried to push the shame away and eclipse it with anger and I was struggling. "I don't get what the hell just happened or why you had me open that savings account this morning. I don't understand anything you do to me, honestly."

" _ Natalie _ ," he said with a sigh, turning to face me while keeping his fingers tented on the blueprints. "You were hired to do a  _ job _ . And you did it. Consider  _ this _ "--he wagged his finger at me--"a  _ perk _ ."

"A perk," I repeated.

"Mm."

And with that, he turned back around and plucked the red sharpie from where it had rolled against the wall. I could do nothing but stand there and stare at him, fighting the whirlwind of emotions racing through me.

I awkwardly shifted on my feet and clutched the torn fabric of my clothes to my chest. "Can I go home?"

"Oh, I wouldn't do  _ that _ if I were you." He didn't even look up at me as he spoke.

"Why not?"

"We wouldn't want you to miss the  _ fireworks _ ."

Fireworks...the charges that I'd heard Daryl and the driver talking about earlier. So there was going to be an explosion. My stomach dropped inside me and I felt sick all of a sudden. Without another word, I made my way to the couch and sat down on it. The rough fabric was uncomfortable to my bare backside and I smoothed my skirt beneath me.

Here was a man responsible for terrorizing the entire city, for murdering countless people, for planning to kill more, and I let him fuck me. Worse than that, I let him come inside me and did nothing to stop it.

Now, all of the bruises and cuts he had marked into my skin burned with regret. I sat on the couch and stared at his back, fighting the burn of tears as his words repeated in my head.

_ Was this not what you wanted _ ?

It had been. I had begged for it. I had opened my legs to him and let him do what he wanted and in the end, he got exactly what he wanted as well.

He broke me.

* * *


	17. Sweetheart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a warning, this chapter mentions self harm and scars. If you're uncomfortable with that and don't want to read any more smut, skip down to the line break toward the end of the chapter.

* * *

_I'm out of my head  
_ _Of my heart and my mind  
_ _Cause you can run but you can't hide  
_ _I'm gonna make you mine_

* * *

My body, my mind, my entire existence was exhausted. I couldn’t remember falling asleep on that threadbare, dingy couch but I woke several hours later in nearly the same position I had drifted off. The muscles in my lower back were stiff and a small spot on my stomach--exactly where I had been cut by his knife-- was stinging as I shifted.

I stretched my legs out and put a palm to my forehead, swallowing down a groan. I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to open my eyes and still be on that couch, in that office. But unless I had died in my sleep, I knew that was where I would be. Eventually, my eyes would open and I would see that table across the room.

The same table his plans were strewn across, the place I had been laying when he finally broke me. 

No. I wasn’t going to think about it. 

Despite the fact that I was still trapped in this warehouse and forced to be here against my will, I refused to dwell on what we had done--what I had _ let _him do. I had to get up and leave. If they tried to stop me, I would just have to fight. 

The longer I stayed here, lying sore and bruised on this couch, the harder it would be to get out of here. And if the door was still unlocked, then I had a good chance of sneaking out and running. 

_ He’d find you _ , a voice in the back of my head reminded me, making me shiver. _ And you’d want him to. _ I buried my head further into the couch and inhaled through my nose, bringing the stale scent of the couch along with the faint traces of him. It made my stomach flutter and I clenched my fists, wishing I never had taken that catering job. 

For weeks, that scent had followed me and had become a part of me that I feared I’d never get rid of. And worst of all, I inhaled again, dragging in a deep breath that expanded my lungs until I had his scent buried deeper inside me. I wanted it to consume me.

Across the room, a clink of metal and the unmistakable sound of a sigh snapped my eyes open. Through the haze of my sleep still clinging to me, I hadn’t realized that I wasn’t alone in the room. It was dim, with the only light coming from the direction I still didn’t want to look. 

There was no point in even trying to pretend he wasn’t there. I could feel him and how my body responded to his nearness. I turned my head and peered over the arm of the couch and found him at that table. His rolled-up blueprints and plans, the knives and marker from earlier were gone and I could see only four things that took their place.

Laid out in front of him were three metal tins, one with the lid off already. A mirror with a large chunk of the corner missing leaned against the wall and in the dingy, cracked glass, I could see his reflection. The face paint that he had smeared across my mouth and throat was faded and streaked across his lips and the white looked as if it had been wiped off a bit. 

All that remained intact was the black darkening his eyes. And as I laid there, trying to be as still as I could be, Joker lifted his gaze to the mirror and met my stare. I wanted to look away, wanted to shrink back down into the cushions of the couch, and pretend he didn’t notice me, but I couldn’t. All I could do was stare.

I watched him swipe his fingers into the tin of greasepaint and when he lifted them, I could see the tips were white with paint. The air froze in my lungs as he looked at me in the mirror once again. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and gravelly. 

“See something you like, _ sweetheart _?”

Hearing him call me that no longer disgusted me the way it once had. In fact, it sent a wave of butterflies fluttering against the inside of my stomach. Slowly, I sat up and quietly cleared my throat. There was no way I was going to answer him so instead, I took in the rest of his body. His usual stringy hair looked as if it were wet though it was hard to tell. He had half of it pulled back.

He had on those same, tacky pants as he always did but his button-up shirt was open and hanging loosely from his shoulders. Beneath it was a white tank top and in the reflection of the mirror, I could see where it came to on his chest.

It was more of him than I had ever seen and I realized that I was holding my breath as I stared at him. Did I like it? Was that what this heat inside me meant? I was actually attracted to a facepaint wearing, terrorist psycho. And attraction was an understatement. 

I _ ached _ for him.

Inside me, whether it was in my head or my heart, something was still clinging to the initial revulsion I felt for him. It held onto it for dear life even though with each passing moment I spent near him, that disgust and loathing was slipping away. 

I didn’t like him.

I hated him.

But there was such a thin line between hate and desire and at this point, it was razor thin for me. 

Joker dipped his fingers back into the paint and brought it to his cheeks, smearing the white grease across the planes of his face and down his jaw. I followed his movements with my eyes. It was only when his tongue darted out against the corner of his lips did I blink myself out of the daze he had pulled me into. 

I turned and stared at the door of the office instead. Things were quiet on the other side of it and I wondered what time it was. I didn’t feel as if I had slept for long. Perhaps it was late, or even early in the morning. Not knowing was almost as disorienting as being in the same room as him. 

With a small sigh, I sat up on the couch and winced at the protest from my sore muscles. There was movement from the table but I didn’t let myself glance that way. I stood, my bare feet on the cold concrete floor making me shiver. I smoothed my skirt around my legs, still mourning the loss of my panties. Remembering what he had done to them made me frown and I turned to the couch where I had balled up the remnants of my shirt and bra into a makeshift pillow.

Where the hell were my panties?

This time I turned to face him and tilted my head to the side. “Where are my panties?”

In the mirror, I saw the corner of his lips twitch before he licked them. “You don’t remember? I’m _ hurt _.”

“I remember what you did to them but...where are they now?”

He didn’t answer me and I didn’t exactly expect him to. There were only a few reasons as to why they were missing and I highly doubted they were just thrown away. Either _ he _ had them or...The thought of any of those other men coming in and finding them disgusted me. I shuddered and folded my arms over my chest. 

Joker popped the lid back onto the tin of white paint and pushed it to the side, reaching instead for one of the other ones. When the top came off, I blinked at the bright red on the inside. There was a dip in the center from being used and once again, I felt mesmerized while watching him. 

He dipped his middle finger into the paint and I didn’t have to look in the mirror to feel his stare cutting right through me. The scars on either side of his mouth twitched as he smirked and I watched him swipe the paint across his bottom lip. 

“You know, _ sweetheart _ , you’ve never asked me about my scars.” The deepness of his voice startled me and I blinked, quickly looking away as if I were a child being scolded. “Wanna know how I _ got _ 'em?”

Slowly, I shifted my gaze back to meet his and watched as he spread the paint up the side of his scars. It settled in the deep fissures, brightening the Glasgow smile with the blood-red streaks and making them look fresh. My stomach clenched at the sight of them and I wanted to look away, but I didn’t. 

Joker wiped his fingers on the knees of his pants and turned in the chair, draping an arm over the back of it as he stared at me. Beneath his scrutiny, I felt naked and the need to cover myself was making my skin prickle with goosebumps. He lifted one hand and curled his fingers, gesturing for me to come closer.

If my head was in charge of my body, I would have stayed rooted to the spot. But I was no longer in control of myself. _ He _was. 

My steps were slow and I stopped once my knees were directly in front of his. He stared up at me for a lingering second before his gaze dropped from my eyes to my chest. It skated down my body, taking in the sight of my wrinkled dress, and when his eyes lifted to meet mine again, the look on his face startled me.

Just the sight of it sent waves of heat coursing through me, completely erasing any of the chills from earlier. Slowly, never taking his eyes off of mine, Joker stood from the chair until he towered over me. Without the multiple parts of his suit, he somehow felt bigger, as if the many layers of fabric contained him.

Now he was free and I felt very much like a helpless, frightened animal. 

The sharp click of a knife opening made my eyes close but I could still see him behind my eyelids. When he touched the cold steel to my collar bone, I barely flinched. As dangerous as he was, as terrified of him that I was, I didn’t think he would hurt me too badly. 

“I had a lover once, _ beautiful _ girl but--” He smacked his lips, making me open my eyes to find him staring down at me with a strange expression on his face. “She was a _ little _ crazy. You see, she loved knives-- _ probably _ more than I do. Had a _ fetish _ for them.”

The blade slipped beneath the thin strap of my dress and I flinched at the scrape of the tip across my shoulder. He didn’t cut the strap but guided it down the curve of my shoulder until it fell away. His gaze moved to my chest as he traced the length of my throat with the knife’s edge. 

“She was covered in scars. Some worse than _ these _ \--” he paused to flash a quick, humorless smile and I blinked at his mouth. “--And she would tell me how much she loved my body, how much she loved my _ blank canvas _ . She wanted to leave scars _ all over _ me. One night, when we were _ in bed _ she took things too far--cut her wrists, cut her throat, and _ begged _ me to cut myself. So I took the razor. I stick it in my mouth like _ this _\--”

I shut my eyes tight as he pushed the blade between my lips. The tip caught on my tooth but I opened my jaw to let him stick the knife against my cheek. It tasted metallic and I was instantly reminded of the blood from the cut on my lip. Joker brought his other hand to my throat and squeezed tight enough to make my eyes snap open.

He ducked his head to get eye level with me, searching my face, searching deep within me for the answer to a question I would never know. Though I didn’t let my gaze leave his, I could see his scars lift with a smile. The tip of his tongue flashed as he licked his lips and stepped even closer to me. 

The hold he had on my throat tightened just enough to make me gasp and my hands caught him by the wrist. 

“How do you think I did, _ Natalie? Hmm _?”

My breath was fast and shallow. It was hard to breathe around his hand and the blade pressing against my mouth was making panic start to prick like ice against my chest. I tried to pull his hand away from me, but it wouldn’t budge. 

“You think she would have liked ‘em? See, she never got the chance to see my work. Never got the chance to _ admire _ her influence. Maybe I should leave my mark on you now, _ hmm _? Would you like that?”

“No,” I managed to gasp around the knife pressing harder against my cheek. “Please.”

Joker closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose as if to savor the sound of me begging him to stop. He shook his head and smacked his lips before staring down at me once more. 

“You should know by now how much I _ like _ it when you _ beg _.” With another deep breath, he pulled the blade out of my mouth. “Take off your dress.”

“No...I-I don’t want to.” Tears burned the corners of my eyes and I tried to blink them away before he could see them. Again, he ducked his head and searched my eyes and I could tell by the scowl on his face he didn’t like being told no.

“You can _ take _ it off. Or I can _ cut it off _ .” With that, he let go of my neck and I took a stumbling step away from him, reaching out to brace myself against the corner of the table. My hand flew to my throat and I rubbed at the bruised flesh. “Your choice, _ sweetheart _.”

Fuck.

I hated him so much.

With every fiber of my being, I wished he was dead. 

As he took a step back and once again lowered himself into the chair, parting his legs wide and draping an arm over the back of it to look as aloof and casual as he could, I glared at him. He stared back at me with a look of mild interest--one that told me I would do well to keep his interest if I didn’t want him to hurt me.

Quickly, I swiped the tears away from my eyes and pulled my arms out of the straps of my dress. It had been months, possibly over a year since the last time I had been fully naked in front of someone, and knowing it was _ him _ that would see it now was infuriating. I wanted to scream at him, to fight, to inflict as much pain that I could on him.

But I didn’t.

I was no longer in control of myself and while the hate and fury and disgust was strong inside me, those feelings weren’t alone. Heat flushed my skin from the tips of my toes to my scalp and my fingers trembled with anticipation as I pulled at the material of my dress. It fell to the floor at my feet in a quiet swish of fabric and I darted my eyes away from him.

I didn’t want to see the look on his face. 

I didn’t exactly have to. I could feel the way he looked at me and my body responded against the wishes of my head. My nipples hardened and I crossed my arms over my chest in an attempt to hide myself. 

Joker clucked his tongue in disappointment and gestured toward me with the knife in his hand. It was clear he wanted me to take my hands away but I didn’t. I hated this vulnerable feeling, hated the way it made my skin crawl. My entire body was wound tight with nervous energy and the only way it could get rid of it was to tremble like a frightened little bunny.

Somehow, I knew that was exactly what he saw me as. 

I was the rabbit and he was the wolf and he had me right between his jaws. When he spoke, I flinched and shut my eyes.

“You just gonna stand there all night, _ sweetheart _?”

Sighing, I looked down at him and tried to decide between giving in right away or putting up a fight. I’d come this far, standing naked in front of him, and _ now _ I wanted to fight? Nothing made sense to me anymore. 

All I knew was that I was fed up with this game. 

“Why don’t you tell me what I should do? That’s what you like to do so much, right? Well, go ahead.”

The roll of his eyes made me brace myself for what was to come, and when he took his arm away from the back of his chair to sit up, I took a step back. Even when I tried my hardest to stand up to him, my fear got the best of me. 

Joker sat forward and stared up at me, the black paint around his eyes making him look dangerous and volatile and I knew it would only end in tragedy if I kept resisting him like this. And not just because he would ultimately grow tired of me and end this...whatever it was. But it was exhausting keeping up this charade.

As if I didn’t want him.

As if I wasn’t already dripping wet between my legs.

As if I wouldn’t do exactly what he wanted me to.

The slow curl of his lips told me he knew it. He set the knife down on the table beside him and shifted on the chair, sitting with his legs wide open before he lounged back again. With one hand, he patted his thigh and I couldn’t help my eyes widening. 

“Sit.”

It was such a simple command but it echoed in my head over and over. The muscles in my legs twitched as if to ask what the hell was taking me so long to obey him. My body was ready to do as he asked but my head...it was clinging desperately to the hope that I didn’t want this. That I would come to my senses any second.

I took a deep breath that shuddered through my chest and slowly moved toward him until I was between his knees. He didn’t offer a hand to pull me down or threaten me with another wave of the knife. He was waiting for me to make the move myself. I could either keep fighting...or I could give in and obey.

He arched an eyebrow, challenging me and inviting me in all at once and I didn’t know whether I wanted to slap him or kiss him more. Against my better judgment, I lifted my foot and slid it over his thigh, slowly lowering myself until I was sitting astride his lap. And even when I reached to steady myself with a fist curled around the fabric of his shirt, he didn’t lift a hand to touch me. 

From this position, I was able to look down at him just a bit and I watched as his eyes fell from my face down to my bare chest and my legs parted around him. The look on his face should have disgusted me but I was transfixed instead. 

There was so much darkness in his gaze but for once, I could see something else as well; desire and heat and the lust mirrored in my own face. It made my skin sizzle beneath his scrutiny and my toes curled. 

Joker inhaled through his nose and gave a small sound of satisfaction that did nothing to help the sweltering heat inside me. My body was practically begging to feel him inside me, twitching and trembling with every breath I took until I couldn’t take it anymore. 

I shifted on his lap, pressing my core into him and despite the stretch of fabric between our bodies, the hard press of his cock was obvious. A groan vibrated my throat and I clamped my teeth together to swallow it down but it was too late. He heard it and knew in an instant how good it felt for me to grind against him.

“_ Liked _ that, did you?” The growl of his voice only turned me on more and I slid a hand up to his shoulder. Desire clouded my vision but I could still see one arm hanging at his side while the other laid along the length of the table. His fingers slowly toyed with the switchblade, spinning it absently and I swallowed back a whimper.

Why wasn't he touching me? Couldn't he see how badly I wanted it?

I knew he wasn't touching me _ because _ he knew how badly I wanted him to and it was pure torture. And if I didn't want to feel more of that torturous pleasure, I would have stood up and walked away from him. He knew it, too. I could see it in the way he watched me, drinking in the sight of my chest rising and falling with every shuddering breath.

Too fed up with my inaction, my body moved on its own and I shut my eyes as I rolled my hips over him again. The length of his cock fit against my center and I let out a breath, wishing I was brave enough to reach down and free him from his pants. My hands stayed where they were, gripping his shoulder with one while the other pressed against his chest.

Beneath my palm, I could feel the beat of his heart and it matched the pounding of my own. It sent a flash of heat through me and I made the mistake of lifting my gaze to his. Slowly, Joker slid his hand up the length of my thigh, raking his nails over my skin until he found my hips. I held my breath, waiting for the bruising grip to take me and he found the same spots on my flesh he had used hours before.

They were still tender and I winced as his fingers dug into them once more but the pain wasn't enough to make me stop. It only added to the pleasure.

With his hand guiding me, I repeated the same movements of my hips--grinding into him, savoring the friction between us. His fingers squeezed harder, urging me to move faster and I obeyed.

I no longer tried to hold back my sounds. I offered each whimper and every moan up to him like an offering.

The hand he kept on the table, the one holding onto his blade, fell away and I opened my eyes just enough to see him bring the tip of the knife to my chest. He traced the curve of my breast and I jerked away. The hold he had on my hip didn't let me get far and he quickly shifted it to my back, pulling me even closer to him.

A noise left my throat, something between whining and moaning, and Joker's lips twitched into a wicked smile. "You know, _ sweetheart _ ," he said quietly, his voice barely evident on his breath. "I _ like _ you in this position. Let's me see the _ blank canvas _ I can work with."

I recalled the words he had said earlier, the story about his scars, and it should have been a blinding red flag. But with rose-tinted glasses fogged by lust, I not only didn't do anything about it...I didn't want to.

I let him drag the blade between my breasts and down the center of my ribcage and all the while, I never let up my pace. It felt too good--I was too close to stop. My breath left my lips in quick puffs and the coil of tension was tight within me.

"_ Natalie _ ," the sound of my name on his lips startled me and I sucked in a sharp breath. " _ Look at me _."

Slowly, I opened my eyes. A frown of frustration pinched my brows and I dug my nails into his shoulder. I searched his eyes and that unfathomable darkness should have terrified me. My body didn't care about the fear anymore. It wanted one thing and I was so close to getting it.

"Are you going to _ come _, Natalie?"

I could only nod.

"_ Ah _ , I don't think you've _ earned _ that yet."

My eyes widened and against the needs of my body to keep going, I grew still on top of him. With the arm looped around my back, Joker stood to his feet and I sucked in a breath of surprise, my arms tightening around his shoulders. For the second time in the past few hours, he dropped me onto the table and I blinked up at him.

Once again, he towered over me and I could only stare up at him as he peeled the shirt away from his shoulders. My eyes couldn't take in enough of him and I licked my lips at the sight of his broad chest and frame. Who knew this was hiding behind all of those layers?

The sound of his laugh--barely anything more than a quick scoff--surprised me, and my eyes lifted to meet his. "Like what you see, sweetheart?"

It was the same thing he'd asked me earlier when he caught me staring, but unlike last time, I didn't remain quiet. "Yes," I breathed, curling both of my hands in the thin material of the tank top he wore. With a tug, I pulled him to me and wrapped my legs around his waist, hooking my ankles behind him to keep him in place.

Our mouths met and I savored the slick feel of the paint on his lips. I wanted it to stain me red. Joker kissed me hungrily, his lips urging mine open to allow room for our tongues and I moaned into his kiss,

The smell of gasoline and sweat that had once frightened me ignited a new fire within me and it burned hot. I couldn't get close enough, couldn't taste enough of him. I needed more and my hands slid over his shoulders, up the curve of his neck, and around to tangle into the messy hair at the back of his head.

With a growl rumbling deep in his throat, Joker tore his lips from mine and before I could cry out in protest, he spun me. My bare feet slapped the cold concrete and I managed to put my hands down on the table in time to keep myself from falling face-first onto it.

In an instant, Joker's hands were on my breasts, kneading and squeezing them from behind. He kicked my legs apart and I gasped. One of his hands left my breast and I had no time to mourn its absence. He gathered my hair and brushed it away from my neck while leaning my head to the side.

My breath was fast and the ache between my legs was almost unbearable. The urgency of his hands, the way he sucked and bit at my shoulder--hard enough to leave a mark--told me that I wasn't the only one aching at the moment. Between our bodies, I could feel the back of his hand against my ass, and the realization that he was unzipping his pants pulled a groan from my throat.

"You've wanted this since the _ first moment _ you laid eyes on me, haven't you _ Natalie _?" He growled the words against my ear, the sound making my knees tremble. I blinked and tried to remember the night in that penthouse. I had been so scared, so frozen and from that moment, I haven't been able to get him out of my head.

He had been right about it from the beginning.

He had seen how much I wanted him in my eyes and I had so foolishly denied it.

I found myself nodding to answer him, too overcome to even attempt to speak. Joker slid his hand up my chest to my throat and curled his fingers around it, bruising more of my skin. I almost welcomed the marks on my body. When he lifted his fingers over my chin, pushing them past my lips, I took them into my mouth and tasted the paint left there.

My tongue curled around his fingers and from behind me, he gave me no warnings. One second, he was pulling his cock from his pants, and the next, he was plunging into me. I whimpered around his fingers and panted for breath, my hands slapping against the table to steady myself.

Joker hooked his other arm around my elbow and pulled my arm back as far as it could go. Pain spread out from my shoulder but like the bites and bruises he left on my body, it only made the pleasure between my legs feel better.

There was no time to adjust myself--no time to find the right position. Joker wasted no time. He fucked me hard from the moment he entered me, jarring me against the table so hard I could feel it in my bones. Once again, he held nothing back--not caring about the sound of the table against the wall, coaxing me to moan louder. He wanted everyone to know what he was doing to me.

I cried out as I felt myself stretch around him and tried to reach back to slow him down. He caught my hand easily and brought it behind my back, holding both of my wrists in his fist. How was he so strong? I saw how muscular he was and still, I was surprised by him.

"Ah, ah, _ ahhh. _ " He purred behind me. "This is what you wanted, _ sweetheart _ . This is what you were begging for while you were _ grinding _ on my lap. And _ now _, you're going to get what you wanted."

Every thrust of his cock stole my breath and I sucked in air around his fingers. When he pulled them from my mouth and curled them back around my throat, my eyes fluttered close. I let him pull me back against him until my head rest against his shoulder and his mouth was right at my ear.

His breath was warm and fast against my jaw and every time he slammed as deep as he could go inside me, a pathetic little whimper would escape my lips. I could feel the stretch of his scars at my temple and knew the smile on his face without seeing it.

"You like it when I _ hurt you _, don't you?"

I nodded.

"All I've ever wanted was to _ hurt you _ , Natalie. And all you ever did was _ run from me _."

"I--" His fingers tightened around my throat enough that I cut my words off with a gasp.

"But you won't run anymore, will ya _ sweetheart-- _ " his words were broken by a sharp hiss and he shifted on his feet, slamming into me from a new angle that made me cry out. "-- _ no _ , you're _ mine _ now, Natalie."

Oh, _ fuck _.

My muscles clenched and my entire body felt as if it were being pulled tight. I arched back into him and cried out as his cock hit that sweet spot inside me. Each thrust brought me closer to the edge and I felt my legs twitch and tremble as everything unraveled.

Joker sighed with satisfaction at my earlobe. He fucked me in time with the crash of each wave of my orgasm and I was lost in the high of it. Every single one of his men could have walked in the room at that moment and I never would have noticed. All I could feel was the rise and fall of each wave.

As they leveled out and the high faded from my head, my body quivered in protest. The muscles of my thighs shook and I only vaguely noticed the drip of warmth down the inside of them. 

All at once, Joker released his hold on my hands and I cried out as my hands slapped the surface of the table. He put his palm between my shoulder blades and pushed me down until I was laying on my front. Lightly, he dragged his fingers down my spine and I shivered. 

I closed my eyes and just like the time before, I let him do what he wanted with me. 

Joker let out quiet grunts as he fucked me from behind, pounding his hips into my backside and I savored the sound of it all. The thought of being used by him, of being his, was almost enough to bring me back to the edge all over again. I didn't have the energy to even try and instead, I laid there and let him use me.

It wasn't long before his steady rhythm became erratic and I knew he was close. He dug his fingertips into my back, pressing half-moon shapes into my skin with his fingernails. Each of them stung with pain and I sucked in a breath.

When he once again stilled inside me, his breath slowly calming, I opened my eyes and peered at the table stretching out in front of me. The mirror was still propped against the wall and in the glass, I could see only a small fraction of his body. His face was tilted toward the ceiling and his eyes were closed, the scars on his face giving him a smile that wasn't truly there. 

In that moment, with his chest rising and falling and his painted face covered in shadows, I couldn't help staring. I pushed myself off the table and stood up with him still inside me. His hands fell to my hips and I leaned back into his chest, reaching one arm to loop around his neck. 

He caught me around the throat once more and I hummed. 

I knew this was still wrong, that, given enough time, I would hate myself more than I ever have before, but just for now, I didn't think about it. I didn't care that I was bruised, that he had come twice inside me in less than twenty-four hours, or that I was still being held hostage in this warehouse. 

For just a brief moment, it all melted away and there was nothing but his mouth against mine.

* * *

A knock on the door of the office several hours later startled me and from my place on the couch, I glanced at Joker. He had dressed once more, covering himself in the many layers of his persona. His hair hung in messy strands that fell around his face and when he straightened his coat around his shoulders, I felt warmth touch my cheeks.

It was strange being able to admit that I was attracted to him. Especially since I still hated him. I didn't _ want _ to want him but I couldn't help it and there was no going back now.

From the door, a muffled voice called out. "We're almost ready, Boss."

Ready for what?

I didn't even want to know the answer to that.

Joker didn't answer. He strolled toward me and tugged the leather gloves on his hands, situating his sleeves around them before his gaze lifted to mine. "C'mon, sweetheart."

My eyes widened slightly and I glanced hesitantly at the door. "Where are we going?"

"I gotta little _ business _ to attend to." He waited for me to stand to my feet and when I did, his hand came down against my ass with a sharp pop. I rolled my eyes. "So you've gotta scram."

I blinked and shook my head. "I'm leaving?"

Joker stared at me, his eyebrows lifting slightly before he glanced around. "What, you want to stay?"

"No. Not if you're going to be killing people and blowing things up." I reached out and took hold of his arm to steady myself while I pushed my feet into the boots I had discarded the night before. He sighed--as if the very touch of my hand irritated him but he didn't swat it away. It was almost humorous how casual touches like this felt too intimate for us, despite the fact that he had fucked me twice now. "I just didn't think you'd let me go anywhere."

Once my hand fell away from his arm, he shrugged. "You're no prisoner here, _ sweetheart _ . I've got things to take care of today and I can't exactly mix business with _ pleasure_."

Again, his hand smacked my backside and I jumped, scowling at him as he passed me to make his way to the door. He opened it and stepped aside, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him and I pursed my lips. I pulled my purse strap onto my shoulder and sauntered toward him.

"Right. Because _ this _\--" I pointed back and forth between us. "--is just a perk of business, right?"

The corner of his lips stretched into a grin. "You're a _ quick _ learner, Natalie. But don't forget." His voice deepened as I passed by him and his hand snatched my elbow to stop me in my tracks. "You're _ mine. _"

I could only stare with wide eyes as his words sank through me, settling inside my lower belly with that familiar ache. He searched my gaze for a brief moment before pulling his attention away from me and I blinked myself from the trance. With my head ducked to hide the flush of my cheeks, I stepped out of the office and stood to the side for him to lead the way.

Out in the warehouse, the sun was just starting to peek through the dingy windows that lined the top of the building. I pursed my lips and hated that I no longer had on panties or a bra. There was nothing between me and everyone else aside from the material of my dress. And this poor dress had been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours.

Then again, so had I.

Joker came to a stop at the edge of the warehouse floor where it opened up and I lifted my head to glance at him. A mountain of stacked bills stood in the middle of the room stole my attention and my jaw dropped at the sight of it. On all sides, his henchmen were stacking more and more, slowly building out like an enormous pyramid of cash.

There had to be millions of dollars just sitting there for the taking. My head filled instantly with all the possibilities, of all the things I could do with money like that. It wasn't until my eyes drifted up the length of the mountain of money that I noticed a man sitting on top--bound and gagged.

He stared at me, his eyes swollen and his clothing torn as if he had been on the losing end of a bad fight. I quickly looked away from him. This was none of my business and honestly, what could I even do to stop it? Joker wouldn’t listen to me and I couldn’t exactly call for help.

So I turned away and spotted a pair of familiar faces among the small crowd of goons standing around. The driver from the previous day stared up at the man on top of the pile of cash and Daryl stood side by side, but it was only the latter who looked at me with contempt.

The cold look on his face instantly lit me with shame and I knew what he was thinking; that I was a whore, that I had lied to him when I said there was nothing going on between Joker and me. Maybe I was a whore. I wasn't sure anymore, but seeing the look of pure hatred and fury on his face as he watched me standing beside Joker brought a smile to my face.

I didn't try to hide the smug grin from him and instead, crossed my arms over my chest and lifted my chin a bit higher before turning away from him completely.

"They're on their way," a voice on the other side of Joker pulled my attention away from Daryl and I glanced up at the two men beside me. Joker gave a single nod and turned to face me. He put a hand to my back and lifted the other to gesture for someone to come closer.

"Time to go," he said and to my horror, I noticed both the driver and Daryl moving toward us.

I shook my head and took a step back. "No. There's no way in hell I'm leaving with either of them."

"What'd I do?" The driver asked, putting his hand to his chest.

I ignored him and turned to face Joker once more. He wasn't looking at me and was instead preoccupied with the man sitting on top of the mountain in the middle of the warehouse. "You cannot be serious, right now. I'm not going with him!"

"Hmm?" Joker asked, finally noticing me still standing there.

"Daryl! I don't want him anywhere near me."

The two men closed the distance between us and one of them grabbed me by the elbow, dragging me back a few steps. I struggled against their hold and wrenched my arm free, turning to lash out. My hand smacked against Daryl's face in a satisfying sound that echoed through the room.

He barely let it bother him, snatching me once more by the arms so suddenly that my feet stumbled on the floor. Daryl shook his head and chuckled as he stared down at me. "You got a problem with me, pussycat?"

Ugh! I almost wished I had accepted Joker's offer to shoot this asshole last night.

The other man jabbed an elbow into Daryl's side and cleared his throat but whatever he was trying to tell him went unnoticed. He leaned toward me, his greasy hair spilling over his shoulder. I stared at it, wanting nothing more than to rip it out of his scalp.

"Get away from me," I snarled, trying in vain to pull my arm free of his grip. A part of me couldn't believe that this was happening. After everything that had happened. After I had given myself to Joker, _ this _ is how he treats me? I really was nothing but a toy to him.

_ You're mine _...His words were nothing but lies and they left a bitter taste in the back of my mouth that brought the sting of tears to my eyes.

"Oh, don't worry, pussycat," Daryl laughed, jerking me away from Joker and leading me back toward the office. "I'll take _ good _ care of you. You won't ever forget it--"

A bang echoed through the entire warehouse and I screamed as something warm and wet splattered across the side of my face. The sound left a ringing in my ears and I gasped for breath as Daryl hit the ground on his knees. His hand fell limp away from my arm and a second later, he slumped face down on the concrete floor, the back of his skull open and oozing blood.

My eyes found Joker and I stared at him in a strange mix of horror and appreciation. He lowered the gun and tossed it to another one of his henchmen standing to the side. With a quick snap of his fingers, two others stepped forward and took hold of Daryl's body.

They dragged him away and I stumbled back, too shocked to do much else aside from stare like a deer caught in headlights.

Joker strolled up to me and assessed the blood splattered on my face with a scowl. He swiped a hand over my chin, his thumb catching my bottom lip as he did so. I wanted to thank him, but it felt wrong to thank him for killing someone.

"Don't say I never did anything for you, _ sweetheart _." He kept his voice low, barely loud enough for me to hear, but I did and I would repeat it in my head for a long time.

Without missing a beat, the other man stepped up to take Daryl's place and when he took hold of my elbow, it wasn't as forceful. He steered me out of the warehouse but I stared over my shoulder to where Joker stood in front of that enormous pile of cash.

He didn't look back.

As soon as I was led back outside in the early morning light, I faced forward and recognized one of the SUVs ahead of us. It was black, with equally dark tinted windows and I knew that I would once again be thrown into the back seat and taken who knows where.

But this time, while I slid into the leather seat and watched the door shut behind me, I smiled and repeated Joker's words in my head.

_ You're mine...sweetheart. _

* * *


	18. The Morning After

* * *

_Cause when you're running by yourself_   
_It's hard to find someone to hold your hand_

* * *

_   
  
_

All I wanted was a shower. I didn’t think that was too much to ask for after living through the past twenty-four hours. My body was aching and sore from the bites and beating it had taken. Weeks ago, when I had first witnessed Joker standing before me, pulling that ribbon from my hair, I knew he was capable of ruining my life but I never knew he could fuck so good.

The thought made me feel filthy and my first instinct was to be absolutely disgusted by it. It was strange how now, after he had been inside me, after he had claimed me, I didn’t feel the same kind of guilt.

It wasn’t gone.

It just didn’t bother me like it did before.

I had been dropped off on the corner two blocks from the apartment, getting no answer from the driver of the SUV as he pulled up to the curb. The look he gave me in the rear view mirror was the only answer I got for my questions. 

When it was clear he would offer nothing else but the strange look of boredom and annoyance, I climbed out of the car. My legs protested the rest of the walk but I had no other option but to pull my purse strap up on my shoulder and head home. 

And now that I was climbing the stairs, calves and thighs screaming at me to just give them a break, I was starting to crave that shower. I felt dirty--and not just because he had come inside me twice. Sleeping on that dingy, ratty couch, being barefoot in the dusty warehouse and not to mention the splatters of blood dried to my face and shoulders had done a number on me.

I was ignoring the other reasons why I felt dirty. Knowing I had let someone so dangerous, so sick and twisted use me the way he had was truly disgusting but I wouldn’t let myself think about it yet. Not until I could clean a little bit of this grime away--physically anyway.

From the hall leading to the apartment, I could hear someone messing around inside. And not exactly inside. Someone was kneeling halfway in the apartment and halfway in the hall, cursing beneath their breath. 

I recognized the cheap toolbox, having seen it several times over the past ten months that I’d known Greg. It was always what he lugged around when he stopped by to fix things and as I neared, I could see him trying to install a new chain lock on the door. 

It was similar to the ones in hotels...and the hotel I had stayed at in particular. My stomach clenched thinking about that day. I had thought my life was ending the moment they had thrown me in the back of that van but I had been wrong. 

Joker had other plans for me.

If I had known then that those plans involved having him inside me, having his bite marks on my neck and shoulders, I would have never--

“Oh, hey Nat.” Greg’s voice snapped me out of my daze and I cleared my throat as he stood up. It only took a quick glance for him to notice how disheveled I looked. I knew it was bad, but judging by the look of surprise and worry on his face, it must have been worse than I thought. “Jesus, are you alright? You look like you’ve been in an accident.”

“I’m fine,” I breathed, brushing past him to walk into the apartment. Things were quiet, which was relieving. Usually when Greg stopped by to do his handy work, Chelsea would hover nearby. Today, despite being a Sunday, she was gone. I dropped my purse on the kitchen counter and went right for the fridge. “Chelsea here?”

The growl in my stomach was almost as loud as my words and I wrenched the fridge door open. The cool air slid over my bare legs and I shivered before bending down to snatch a bottle of water from the shelf. I twisted the cap off and chugged it while Greg dropped his tools and faced me.

“Nah, she’s out with her mom and sister shopping. Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice was hesitant and my eyes slid to him as I gulped in the last mouthful of water. I sucked in a breath and nodded. He didn’t buy it and I noticed him staring at my face. “It looks like you were in an accident or something. Is that blood?”

He reached for my face and I quickly ducked away, forcing a laugh as I tossed the empty bottle into the trash. “Blood? Why on earth would I have blood on me? It’s just...paint.” It was the first thing that popped in my head and I quickly faked another laugh. “I’ve had a long night, so I’m going to jump in the shower and then run an errand.”

Before he could say something else, I hurried into the bathroom, shut the door behind me and twisted the lock in place. My chest rose and fell with fast breaths of bubbling panic and I quickly turned the knobs above the faucet. Water poured out in a rush and soon, steam was rising from the tub. 

I dipped my arms out of the sleeves of my dress and let it fall to the floor, instantly conjuring memories of standing in front of Joker, stripping in the same way. His gaze had burned me up and I was surprised that not only did it not haunt me hours later, I actually  _ longed _ for it. 

Shutting my eyes tight to try to purge my head of the feeling, I turned to the sink and leaned against the cold porcelain. When I opened my eyes, I stared at my reflection in the mirror and almost laughed. There was no way in hell anyone with half a brain would believe the splatters on my face were paint. 

Even dried, they still held a tinge of red. It was almost unmistakable and I just hoped Greg would believe the lies I fed him. What reason would he have to think it was blood though? It’s not like he’d ever, in a million years, think  _ I _ was involved with someone like Joker. 

But I was. I was  _ his. _

I pushed away from the sink and pushed my hair away from my neck on both sides. My gaze fell to the purpling bruises around my throat, the red splotches on the tops of my shoulders and the way it all contrasted against the pale tone of my skin. 

“Oh, shit,” I whispered to myself, leaning closer to the mirror as steam began to cling to the edges of the glass. He really  _ had _ done a number on me. I brought my hands up to my throat and settled my fingers in the marks that perfectly matched his. 

Seeing the way he had branded me, all the evidence of our bizarre affair, had an effect on me that I wasn’t quite expecting. The corner of my lips lifted in a delight that I couldn’t get rid of. It was strange how the last time I stood in this bathroom, I had stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to convince myself that I hadn't wanted Joker to kiss me and now, I was admiring the marks he left on my body. 

Speaking of, I stepped away from the sink and peered down at my lower belly. Just beside my navel and a little below it, was the shape he had carved into me. From this angle, it looked like a candy cane and was red and a bit puckered. Apparently, he had cut me deeper than I thought. Then again, I had been distracted by the  _ other _ things he was doing to me at the same time.

My eyes lifted back to the mirror and I stood on my tiptoes to be able to see my stomach in the reflection. For several seconds, while the water still ran and steam continued to fog the small space of the bathroom, I could only stare at the single letter cut into my skin.

_ J _

He really had claimed me…

I had to physically force myself to turn away from the mirror and step into the shower and even after I did, I couldn’t stop staring down at myself. Even as I washed myself, washed all of the grime and dust and sweat off of me, I couldn’t look away from the cut for too long. My eyes would drift down the length of my belly and there it was; red, a bit scabbed and unforgettable. 

His words repeated in my head as I rinsed. 

_ But you won't run anymore, will ya sweetheart-- no, you're mine now, Natalie. _

I reached to the faucet and twisted the knobs, cutting the water off and leaving me standing there in the shower. The warmth seeped out quickly and I bit my lip, hoping to hold onto the heat for just a bit longer.

After wrapping the towel around my chest, I realized I hadn’t brought any clothes into the bathroom with me. And by the sounds of the electric drill in the apartment, I could only guess that Greg was still working. There was no avoiding this and honestly, why should I? It’s my apartment too.

I should be able to walk around dressed however I want.

I threw open the door and strolled out, my hair dripping down my shoulders and along my arms. Sure enough, Greg was still at the door and he turned to glance at me as I made my way to my bedroom door. I could feel his slack jawed gaze on me and I turned my head to give him a smile. 

The familiar words popped into my head and before I could stop them, they were tumbling from my lips. "See something you like, Greg?" 

He stammered for a brief second, cleared his throat and returned to his work on the front door. I laughed softly and stepped into my room, shutting the door behind me before making my way to the dresser because my window. My entire body tingled slightly and I wondered if it was because I had used such similar words to what Joker had said to me yesterday. 

There was a strange sort of power they brought with them and I was almost ashamed to admit that I liked it. There was no time to dwell on it and I knew I had to get down to the clinic. Sure, I had seventy-two hours to take the morning after pill, but it was better to do it as soon as possible.

Which meant, I shouldn’t be standing around, feeling giddy over things that shouldn’t have excited me. I didn’t bother dressing nicely. Doctor visits were never enjoyable anyway. What point was there in looking cute? I tugged on a pair of comfy shorts, a loose T-shirt and zip-up jacket before running a comb quickly through my hair.

I left it wet and slipped my feet into a pair of running shoes that I had never ran in. Unless of course, I count the night I had ran away from the police station after Joker had blown it halfway to hell. 

A sudden twinge of guilt caught me right in the middle of my chest and I rubbed my palm across it. I had to stop thinking about it. The more I thought about it, the worse I would feel and I had things to do. 

No time to wallow in self-pity.

Throwing open my bedroom door, I found Greg finishing up. He was securing the lock in place and turned to face me as I made my way to the kitchen. Yeah, I had stuff to do--important stuff--but I was also starving and I had seen a box of takeout noodles with my name on it.

Greg turned to face me as I grabbed the container and popped it open. “We got some for you last night, but you didn’t come home.”

I threw open the drawer and found a plastic fork, my fingers shaking from the lack of food. It had been too long since I ate and there was no time to waste on heating it up in the microwave. I dug in, shoveling the bites into my mouth as if it were the last meal I’d ever eat.

“Thanks,” I managed to mumble around the mouthful of noodles. It was clear he was trying to get some information out of me about where I had spent the night before, but I wouldn’t offer that up to anyone. Who would believe me anyway? After I swallowed another bite, I wiped my mouth and turned to look at him. “I gotta run an errand, but I should be back in a couple of hours. You staying the night?”

He ran a hand through his mop of blond hair and shrugged. “Depends on what Chelsea wants me to do, I guess. I think her mom is trying to convince her to leave the city for a while.”

“Why?”

Duh.

The bombings, the murder, the terrorist in clown makeup that had fucked you last night that was also wreaking havoc on all of Gotham...My cheeks flushed and I occupied myself with eating another bite of noodles.

“A lot of bad has happened lately. If it weren’t for my job, I’d be out of here too.”

“It’s Gotham,” I said, tossing my fork into the trash before putting the container of leftovers back into the fridge. “There’s always a lot of bad happening.”

“Yeah, but this is…” Greg trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s too much, you know? Every day there’s a funeral for another cop or politician and it’s not like we can wait around for that Batman to save us.”

I lifted an eyebrow and turned to face him, elbowing the door to the fridge shut behind me. “I thought you liked the Batman?”

“I did, but c’mon. People are dying and he’s...just taking his time while this Joker asshole is running around, keeping us in fear.”

Yeah, I really didn’t want to get caught up in this type of discussion. Especially since I could tell he was going to say something that I wouldn’t like. I forced a smile, hoping he wouldn’t push the conversation anymore. “I should go.”

I reached for my purse still sitting on the counter and ducked beneath the strap. The look on his face reminded me of a sad Golden Retriever and I could tell he wanted to say something else. Before he could, I forced a smile and turned to the front door. 

“Be careful out there, Nat.” My hand froze on the doorknob and I blinked down at it. The sound of his voice caught me off guard and slowly, I turned to look back at him from over my shoulder. He leaned one hand against the cabinets and studied me as he stood there. “I know you’ve been going through some shit and I just want you to be careful.”

I was being paranoid. There was  _ no way _ that Greg of all people suspected anything of me. And really, what could he think? I had never even so much as  _ hinted _ that anything happening to me was because of Joker. For all he knew, I was just in a weird situation that had nothing to do with him. 

Without saying anything, I pulled the door open and hurried out into the hallway. I knew he was just being a nice guy. That’s who Greg was...but still, his words, that look on his face, and the way he had stared at me like he was almost  _ disappointed _ in me chipped away at me little by little. 

Once I was out on the street heading toward the clinic on 16th street, I pulled my jacket around me and crossed my arms over my chest. The streets were packed for a Sunday and I couldn’t help noticing that it seemed most of them were waiting for cabs or getting into them.

Was everyone trying to leave Gotham?

Nothing had even happened for weeks. Maybe they could tell something was right around the corner. If I wasn’t so caught up in this bizarre, fucked up affair with Joker, maybe I’d have noticed it sooner. 

Every person I passed that looked up at me, felt as if they could see the evidence of him on me. They could see the shape of his fingers in the purple marks on my throat, could see the bite marks and the letter  _ J _ he had cut into my stomach. 

I felt like I had a scarlet letter on my chest for them all to see...but in this case, it would be a garish, purple J stitched on the front of my clothes so everyone could know that I had let the man that was terrorizing Gotham kiss and fuck me.

And I had liked it.

Not only that, but I wouldn’t stop it from happening again given the chance. 

My knees felt weak at the thought and I had to physically keep myself walking. If I took a single second to pause, I would have to sit down and breathe through the growing panic. No, it was better to keep going and get to the clinic.

Just get the morning after pill and prevent any surprises nine months down the road, and I could start panicking. 

The clinic, thankfully, was open seven days a week though they typically closed at 2 P.M. on Sundays. I made it forty minutes before they closed the doors and breathed a sigh of relief. The waiting room was a bit packed and I wondered how many of the other women sitting there were here for the same thing as me. 

A few guys were littered around the chairs and at least three of them looked strung out on something--or several somethings. They reminded me of Daryl and I blinked, the sight of him slumping to his knees with a hole in his head replaying through my mind over and over.

At the window, a woman slid the glass partition aside and called out, “next!”

I jumped and hurried up to the desk, dropping my purse down on the counter as she slid a few sheets of paper into a clipboard. “Name?”

“Natalie Jacobs.”

“Are you a new patient?”

“No, I’ve been here once last year for the flu.” I glanced to the left of the partition and found a cup of pens. I snatched one and turned back to the woman as she slid the clipboard to me. 

“Reason for visit?” 

Warmth touched the tops of my cheeks and I swallowed. “Um--” I scratched at my eyebrow and leaned a bit closer. “I need the morning after pill.”

Unfazed, the woman typed it into the computer system and pointed down at the clipboard in my hands. She instructed me to fill it out and turn it back into her. I should be called shortly.

Yeah, right.

It didn’t take too long to fill the paperwork out but my fingers were annoyingly shaky and twice, I dropped the pen. The second time, the man across the seating area from me stooped to pick it up and when I thanked him with a smile, he responded by staring at my chest.

Ugh. 

After I turned the paperwork back in and took my seat once more, I crossed my legs and winced at the stubble. Two days without shaving wasn’t a good luck but it’s not like anyone would see it anyway. 

Not unless I paid a certain someone another visit. 

Again, my cheeks lit with heat and I shook the hair from my face and shifted on the chair. Across the row of seats, the man was still sitting there, still staring at me. What was there even to stare at anyway? I was wearing a baggy t-shirt and a jacket. The only part of me he could see was my neck and--

Oh, god…

Did he see the bruises? 

I turned away from him and pulled my hair in front of me, hoping it would block him from seeing it, but the paranoia was already starting to creep back in. Thankfully, I had no time to dwell too long on it. At the side of the front desk, one of the doors opened up and a woman in scrubs stepped through.

“Ms. Jacobs,” she said, looking down at my information.

I scrambled out of the seat and hurried up to her, following as she made her way into a narrow hallway leading to another room. She took my weight, blood pressure, and all the boring stuff before taking me further into the clinic. As we walked into a small room with a bed, chair, and computer, she shut the door behind us.

“So, you’re here for the morning after pill, is that correct Ms. Jacobs?”

“Yes,” I said in a breath. Already, my nerves were starting to make me shake again and I wedged my hands beneath my thighs to keep them from trembling. 

“Okay,” the nurse said, rolling her stool up to the computer. She typed quickly on the keyboard and didn’t look up as she continued her questioning. “When is the last time you had unprotected sex?”

“Last night and...this morning.” Ugh, just admitting that out loud made me feel wretched. Shame sat heavy on my chest and I shifted on the chair across from her. I felt like a whore…

“Have you been tested for sexually transmitted diseases and HIV within the past year?”

“No. But I have been tested, it’s just been a while. I didn’t...exactly expect to have sex last night.” At this, the nurse lifted her gaze from the computer screen and turned her head toward me. She looked at me from over the top of her glasses, just long enough to send a jolt of panic through me before she turned back to her typing. 

After a moment, she spoke up again. “And your partner? Do you know if they’ve been tested recently?”

The question stunned me and I could feel my mouth opening and closing again. What answer could I give? It’s something that I hadn’t even considered and now that the idea was in my head, I felt sick. I blinked, trying to force my brain to catch up. By now, the woman looked at me again from over her glasses and I faked a laugh.

It was all I could do.

I lifted a hand and scratched at my eyebrow. “I-I’m not sure. It was all kind of sudden and I don’t know if he has a history.” Panicked laughter bubbled up from my throat and I couldn’t keep it down. Shaking the hair from my face, I shrugged as the nurse watched me. “Not that he would even tell me anyway. He’s…”

_ Dear God, Natalie! Shut up! _

My jaw snapped close and I swallowed nervously. I could practically feel her gaze on me as it drifted down from my eyes to my lip, where the small cut still sat and when her eyes moved to my neck, I had to look away. 

Everything I had been through the past few months, from the night at the Wayne penthouse to this morning, was like a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off beneath my skin. It itched to surface and no matter how many times I swallowed, I could feel the words clawing at the back of my tongue. They wanted to get out, wanted to be heard by someone that could get me some help. 

“Ms. Jacobs,” the nurse’s voice cut through my panic but didn’t make it wane. “We only ask this because we want to make sure you’re safe. Was last night consensual?”

The rush of blood to my head left my ears ringing. I had no idea what to say. She was giving me an opportunity to tell her, to get the help that apparently I was still desperate for. 

A part of me took the moment to consider her words. Had it been consensual? No, it was ridiculous. Of course it had been. 

I had wanted it. I had begged for it. 

There were still parts of me that craved it now. 

“Ms. Jacobs, this is a safe space and if you’ve been hurt or abused, we only want to help you.”

“Abused?” My voice was quiet and the burn to the back of my eyelids was familiar. I refused to do this. I wouldn’t cry. “No. I wasn’t--” Despite my determination, my voice cracked and the words stuck to the back of my tongue. Again, the nurse glanced down to the marks on my throat that perfectly matched Joker’s handprint. I shook my head. “No. It was consensual. I wanted it, but I didn’t expect the condom to break.”

The lie was the worst tasting one I’d ever uttered and I didn’t even want to hear it come out of my own lips. Not that I thought it wasn’t consensual but telling her there was a condom in the first place. The thought of protection hadn’t even entered my head the night before.

The nurse took a breath and let it out of her nose slowly, turning to face the computer screen once more. She typed for a moment before she stood up and turned back to me. “The nurse practitioner will be with you shortly to explain the pill.”

I watched her leave and as soon as the door shut behind her, I let out a breath and leaned forward, dropping my head into my hands. My fingers were shaking around my face and all I wanted to do was get the pill and get the fuck out of here. 

I didn’t want to be alone in this room, shivering and left to my thoughts. Even being out in the city, where people could see the guilt written on my face, was better than this. 

Thankfully, the nurse practitioner was quick. She came in, explained the pill, and handed it over with a small cup of water. While she described what to expect and what to do in case of an allergic reaction, all I could think about was one thing.

Well, two things.

First, I had to get out of here, away from the sterile smell of the clinic and back on the smoky, dirty streets of Gotham.

Second, I wanted to find a way to contact him.

Just to talk. Just to hear his weird voice. 

Somehow, I was sure that it would make me feel better, or it would infuriate me and I could go back to hating him with every fiber of my being. I longed for the days when I hated any thought of him that popped into my head. Now, I was distracted by anything that  _ wasn’t _ Joker.

Once the nurse practitioner finished up and handed me a slip of paper to give to the receptionist at the front, I was out the door. I didn’t even tell her goodbye or thank her. I just had to leave.

Back at the front window, a different receptionist took the paper and gave me the total cost of the visit. I threw some bills at her and left. I didn’t care about the change and I ignored her as she shouted at me to come back. I had to get out of there.

Even as I stepped back outside in the city air, I didn’t stop. I sucked in deep breaths and walked as fast as I could in any direction. I didn’t care. 

I just had to get away.

My fingers clawed at the purse hanging by my side and I pushed my hand in, rooting around the various items until I found the familiar shape of the burner phone. There were no messages or missed calls, but I found the call log and stared down at the unsaved number.

This was his phone...or one he had used to call me yesterday. I just hoped it wasn’t another burner that he tossed away after he had hung up with me yesterday. 

My thumb hovered over the call button but before I could press into it, the ground beneath me rumbled. In the distance, something sounded as if it had crashed. A car? 

I whirled around but saw nothing but the string of downtown traffic. A crash wouldn’t have been that strong…

My stomach dropped to the sidewalk and I spun on my heel. Someone was running, another person shouted and in the distance, I could hear another blast. 

An explosion. 

“No,” I whispered, my feet moving on their own. As people ran by me, some shouting to others, I ran in the opposite direction. I ran  _ toward _ the blast, though I knew there was nothing I could do. He wouldn’t be there anymore. 

But I couldn’t sit by any longer. 

If the police couldn’t stop him, if Batman wouldn’t do what was necessary, then...there was no hope for me. But I couldn’t just sit by anymore. 

He had never listened to me before. There was no way this time would be different. And I would be lying if I said there weren’t a few selfish reasons within me to find him again, but I told myself they didn’t matter. I had to find him and try to put a stop to this madness. 

* * *


	19. Over

* * *

_Cause there's nothing for me to think about_

_Now that he's gone, I can feel nothing_

* * *

I made a short video for this fic that you can_[ find here.](https://fallenalien.tumblr.com/post/640259251623870464/hi-i-made-a-very-crappy-tiktok-for-my-joker-fic)_

It's nothing special but it's got the song I titled this story after and I think it fits well.

Anyway, this fic is coming to an end! The next chapter will be the last but have no fear. I have a sequel planned and will be starting it as soon as I wrap this fic up. I'm not done with Natalie and Joker's story just yet. 

* * *

“The person you called has a voicemail box that has not been set up--” I ended the fourth call I had tried to make as I raced down the street. Whoever was on the other end of the call kept hanging up on me. Whether it was Joker or not, I wasn’t sure. But the first time, they had let it ring three times before hanging up. The next three times, they had only let it ring once.

Someone was on the other end. And if they thought I would give up that easily, they were wrong. I cursed and stuffed the phone into the pocket of my shorts with trembling fingers and ran on.

There were sirens everywhere. The noise from the multitude of fire trucks and ambulances and police cars bounced between the buildings in the city, echoing for miles. It was all around me and my ears were begging for me to press my hands to them, begging to hear anything else. 

But I couldn’t do anything but run. Tears stung the corners of my eyes and several times, police cars raced down the street ahead of me. I followed the noise of the sirens until I skidded around the corner. 

The street ahead was filled with people and police cars but beyond was the destruction I had been running to. My hands flew to my mouth and I stared in horror at the mound of rubble and burning debris that had once been Gotham General Hospital. 

He had done this. 

My fingers were trembling against my face and I felt sick to my stomach. The whole morning, I had been so naive, so stupid. I had thought about the past two days, thought about him kissing me and touching me and all the while, he was doing this. 

I took one step after another until I was at the back of the crowd of people. There were police officers directing the crowds away, assuring everyone that their loved ones would be found and I moved closer. One of the cops had told a group of people to contact the other hospitals and as they stepped away, he lifted the radio on his shoulder to his mouth. 

Before he could say anything, he spotted me and stepped back to keep me from going any further. “Ma’am, you can’t go any further.” He put a hand out and I flinched away from him. My brows pinched into a frown and I shook my head. 

“You don’t understand. I--”

“If you have family members or loved ones that were in the hospital, they were evacuated and taken to other hospitals in the area.” The officer looked down at me with kind, reassuring eyes, but I could tell he was overwhelmed himself. I looked from his face to the destruction down the block from us. 

Fire trucks sprayed water on the burning piles of rubble and I watched the dust cloud and smoke curl up to the sky. I was vaguely aware that the police officer was speaking to me again, but I could hear nothing in my ears but the rush of my heart beat. Before he had finished saying whatever he was telling me, I turned on my heel and walked away. 

My stomach was twisted and tormented by the thought of letting the person, the monster responsible for this touch me. I had wanted him. I had let him do so much to me and I had liked it. 

This time, I brought my hands to my ears and choked back a sob, wishing I could drown out the sirens. I walked until I could no longer look back and see the chaos he left behind. It took several blocks before the dust and smoke disappeared behind the multitude of buildings and when the sirens were nothing but faded echoes, I slowed to a stop.

I ducked into an alley and leaned against one of the buildings, sucking in deep breaths of air. It did nothing to help ease the grip of panic and terror that hadn’t relented from the moment I felt those tremors outside the clinic. I squeezed my eyes shut and slid down the wall until my backside met the filthy pavement beneath me.

I already felt filthy, from the inside out. 

The disgust that I had been ignoring, the guilt and hatred for myself that I thought I could forget resurfaced and an inner voice in my head spat at me. You let a mass murder fuck you. I pressed my palms into my eyes and sobbed. You let him cut you and bruise you and you liked it. You’d let him do it again, wouldn’t you?

Sniffing, I snatched the burner phone back out of my pocket and dialed the last number--the only number--that had ever called this device. An unlisted number for a man with no name. 

_You know my name, Natalie_. The echoes of his voice in my head made me scowl down at the phone through my tears and I pressed a thumb into the call button. _I want to hear you say it._

Two rings this time before that same message replayed. “The person you called has a voicemail box--”

Fuck! 

I called three more times and never got past the third ring. With a sob that ached my chest, I let my head fall back against the building behind me and squeezed my eyes shut. Hot tears rolled down the sides of my face and I knew I was being stupid. Crying in the side streets wouldn't solve anything. It wouldn't help me at all.

But I couldn't hold it in anymore. I cried harder than I had in months. The sobs ached my chest and each breath I sucked in did little to help. My head hurt, my heart was shattered, and I was powerless against a force I had no business getting involved in.

And the most fucked up part? I just wanted to talk to him. I actually wanted to hear his voice and that stupid tone he spoke to me in. I wanted to hear him say my name the way he did and I fucking hated myself for it.

God, what was wrong with me? Had he truly broken me down this badly?

I sucked in a shuddering breath and used the sleeve of my jacket to wipe away the tears that streaked down my face. A cough was in the back of my throat, pressing against my tongue and making me gag. With a groan, I leaned forward and dropped my forehead onto my knees, curling my arms around my legs.

I truly was a pathetic piece of shit.

People had died today.

People were searching for their loved ones, terrified that they'd been killed by a psychopath and here I was...sitting alone in an alley, crying because I couldn't get through to the man who did it all.

If anyone who knew me saw me at this moment, they wouldn't even recognize me. They'd be disgusted with me as much as I was with myself.

But what else could I do? I had no power over him. I couldn't stop this. He'd showed me enough times that I meant nothing to him and truly, that was what hurt the most. No, I didn't care that he didn't care about me. I hated that I let myself walk right into this situation. I should have fought harder, I should have done more to stop him, to stop all of this.

I should have pulled the trigger the moment he put the gun in my hands that day. If I could go back to that moment, sitting in the back of that van, holding a gun to his head, I would have squeezed the trigger and ended this.

In my hand, the burner phone vibrated and I nearly dropped it to the ground. I scrambled to sit up and cleared my throat as I stared down at the screen. The same unlisted number that I'd been trying to call for the past hour was calling me. My body betrayed me. Butterflies erupted in my stomach and my heart leapt into my throat.

I pressed the answer button though I knew I should have let him sit it out a moment, keep him dangling like he usually did me.

"Hello, _sweetheart_," he spoke before I could answer and I closed my eyes at the sound of his voice. It was like a drug to me now, and no matter how desperate I was to get clean, I couldn't deny how good it felt to hear it.

"What are you doing?" I managed to say, though my voice was hoarse from crying so hard. "You blew up a hospital."

"Oh, you noticed that?"

I was on my feet, using the building behind me to keep me steady as I stood. "Please stop with these jokes and quips. This is serious. You killed innocent people!"

His sigh made me squeeze my eyes shut. "I've told you before, Natalie. There are no innocent people and there are consequences when people don't play by the rules."

I paced further into the alley and shook my head at his words. The high from hearing his voice was fading fast and left me with nothing but sickness in its wake. "Fuck that. You're a hypocrite. You don't play by the rules that you force everyone else to--"

"_I_ make the rules."

"God, I'm so sick of you playing these games. Why are you doing this? Why can't you just--" I pressed my palm to my forehead and tried to ignore the burn of fresh tears to the back of my eyelids. Crying alone was one thing, but crying on the phone to him wasn't an option. He would get too much satisfaction out of it. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I know you have this big plan or whatever, but I'm begging you."

The sound of his laugh, soft but sinister in my ear, made me roll my eyes.

"It's kind of sweet that you care this much, Natalie. It touches my heart."

"You have no heart," I whispered, hoping he could feel the sting of my words. The sound of his laugh was evidence to the contrary and I scowled at the building in front of me, wishing it was him standing there.

I had slapped him before. I wasn't afraid to do it again.

"Oh, _sweetheart_," he purred, the sound making my eyes close. "That hurts."

"Please," I whispered, no longer able to hold back the teardrops. They rolled down my face and I didn't bother wiping them away. "Stop this. We can figure things out. It doesn't have to be this way."

He made a sound of his disapproval and I swallowed down a sob. Behind my eyelids, I could just imagine the look on his face. Mock pity, a faux frown that would twist into a wicked smirk, and those eyes that held nothing but darkness.

"_Yes_, it does," he said quietly, the tone of his voice no longer humorous and mocking. There was a darkness in it that I could feel in my bones and I shivered. "There are bigger things at work than you and I, Natalie. Far more important things than your _desires_."

My eyes opened and through the haze of tears, I glared at the wall. Anger filled me so suddenly it blocked any other feeling and I clenched my fingers around the phone at my ear. I trembled from head to toe and for once, it wasn't out of terror or misery. I was full of fury.

"I hate you," I said through clenched teeth. Again, I thought back to the day in that van and pictured my hands around that gun and the barrel to his head.

"Is that so?" Joker laughed in my ear. "Didn't seem like you hated me this _morning_ when you were begging for me. Do you remember the way you took it all so _eagerly_, Natalie?"

"I hope that whatever you're planning backfires in your face. I hope you get caught in your own chaos. I hope you die and your entire existence is nothing but a stain on the city. And when you do, no one will remember you!"

God, I wanted him to feel exactly how I felt right now. I wanted him to see the fury in my face and the anger that trembled through me. And it would have been so satisfying if I had ended the call right then, but I hesitated. I waited for just a second too long, listening, hoping to hear him react in a remotely human way.

I wanted him to yell at me back, to show any emotion, but he didn't. All he said before I could take the phone away from my ear, was something I would never forget.

"Oh, but _you'll_ remember me, sweetheart."

My thumb pressed the button to end the call and I gripped the phone in my fist. I lifted it in the air, intending to smash the stupid device on the filthy pavement beneath my feet...but I didn't. I don't know what I was still holding on to. I didn't know what else I could hope for. I wouldn't be getting it. Not from him.

Instead, I lowered my arm and stared down at the phone in my palm. I didn't know how long I stood there, staring at the screen, waiting for it to light back up with that same unlisted number. When it didn't, when I felt the adrenaline fading out of me, I let out a breath and pushed the phone into my pocket once more.

I turned on my heel and walked out of the alley. The streets were relatively empty for the afternoon, but I wasn't surprised. People were fleeing the city like rats now. They'd rather drown in the waters than die on the ship and I didn't blame them.

It took over an hour to walk home. The closer I got to the apartment, the more crowded the streets were. Cabs and cars and buses filled the roads and the horns filled the air. I kept my head down and walked. Even as I passed by a group of people listening to a radio playing in a car parked on the curb, I didn't look up.

The voice playing over the speakers was one I recognized--one I had just heard speaking into my ear. Joker was giving a warning not to leave the city, not to take the bridges or roads leading out of Gotham, and still, I walked home with my head down.

There was no fight left in me. He had tormented me, had broken me, and left me completely exhausted and defeated.

And I had no power whatsoever. He didn't care if I lived or died. If I was caught up in one of his explosions, he would shrug it off and walk on. I meant nothing to him and it was time for me to stop wanting something that I would never get from him. He wasn't a man.

He was nothing but a psychotic animal.

My life truly fell apart when I stopped thinking of him like that when I had let him kiss me the first time. It wouldn't happen again. The bruises he left on me would fade, the bite marks and cuts I endured would heal and despite what he believed, I would forget about him.

.

.

By the time I made it home, my stomach was cramping fiercely. The nurse practitioner had warned me that it would be a side effect of the morning-after pill and I was miserable as I managed to make it up the stairs to the second floor of our apartment building. The pain made my mouth feel dry and hot and I wanted something cold to soothe my throat.

Crying had left me with a headache as well.

I just wanted to sleep the next few weeks away. I didn't care anymore.

When I turned the corner from the stairs, I came to a stop and stared at the pair of suitcases sitting outside our front door. Inside, I could hear voices and sighed at the sound of Greg instructing Chelsea to get her things.

Apparently, they were some of the rats abandoning the sinking ship of Gotham. I wanted to turn around and walk away, to find a motel or something to stay in, but my bed was calling my name and I needed some heavy-duty pain killers.

I passed into the apartment door and found Chelsea hurrying from her bedroom to the bathroom. Greg was standing in the living room, looking at his watch. "We've got just enough time to pick up your mom before the ferry leaves."

I frowned and cleared my throat to make my presence known. Greg whirled around and seemed relieved to see me. He crossed the room and put a hand on my shoulder. "Thank God, you're alright. When we heard the explosion we had no idea where you were."

"I was..." I didn't even bother answering him. What was the point? With a shrug, I stepped around him and crossed into the kitchen. I grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen and popped the cap. I poured four pills into my mouth and leaned underneath the faucet to pour water into my mouth. It was cold and that was all I cared about.

"Where have you been?" Chelsea's shrill voice called out behind me and I stood up and turned around to face her. Her eyes were lined with mascara that had ran from her crying and I frowned. "Greg told me you had left and we've been worried."

"I'm sorry. I just had somewhere to be. Are you guys leaving the city?"

"Yeah," Greg said from behind me. "I managed to get us onto the ferry. It's leaving in a few hours and we need to leave soon if we want to make it."

"Are you sure you should? I mean...they're saying not to leave."

Greg scoffed and took the bag of toiletries from Chelsea's hand. He nodded to me as he dropped the bag onto the two suitcases outside in the hall. "Yeah, that's what that bastard wants us to do. Wants us corralled like sheep where he can just blow us up one by one."

The mention of that _bastard_ made me flinch and I turned away from them before they could notice my reaction. I reached for the door to the fridge, not even wanting to eat, but needing something to distract myself.

What would the two of them think if they knew the truth?

Another cramp gripped my stomach and I winced. I managed to swallow down a groan and was thankful that they were distracted for the moment by discussing their plans to leave the city. "You got everything you need?"

"I think so." Chelsea turned to me just as I shut the fridge and stood up. "Come with us, Nat. You don't need to stay here alone while it isn't safe."

"Yeah, this is the last place you need to be."

I stared at them both and suddenly, the guilt I had been trying to ignore came bubbling to the surface like boiling water. It scorched me from the inside and I crossed my arms over my chest, afraid that they would be able to feel the heat of it. "I appreciate the offer but..."

"Natalie, please. This city isn't safe anymore."

Nowhere was safe anymore. It didn't matter where I went. Their offer was tempting, even though I knew that it wouldn't work for me. I couldn't leave, though I wasn't sure what was keeping me here. Did I think that somehow, he'd change his mind? No. There was no hope left for that, but still, it felt wrong to leave.

"I'll be alright." I forced a smile. "Besides, what would a bastard like Joker want with someone like me anyway?"

Greg sighed and put his hands on his hips, turning to look at his girlfriend. He didn't find it weird that I would stay. He probably wouldn't think twice about me when they left. Not because he was a jerk, but because he just wasn't like that.

But it wasn't Greg that worried me at that moment. It was Chelsea. She stared at me, studying me as we stood in the apartment. Even when Greg clapped his hands and told her once again that they need to head out, she didn't look away from me.

I swallowed and leaned against the counter, ducking my head in hopes that my hair would hide the shame and guilt written on my face. Not to mention, there were still bruises on my neck that I didn't want her to see.

"Go ahead and take the bags down to the car," Chelsea said, making me bite the inside of my lip. Her tone only made the knots in my stomach twist harder. "I'll be down in a minute."

He seemed to understand what she was saying and without a word, Greg took the bags and walked away. It was just the two of us left alone in the apartment and I could feel the threat of tears press hard against the back of my throat. It made the pounding in my head worse and I reached up to scratch at my eyebrow.

"Hey," she said quietly, moving closer to my position in the kitchen. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I croaked, lifting my head with a laugh that sounded both forced and completely bitter. "I'm fine."

Chelsea hesitated and put her hand down on the counter. She drummed her fingers for a second and for just a tiny moment, I thought she would give up and leave me alone. But she took another step forward and I could see the worry and confusion written on her face.

"Look, I know we haven't been close friends or anything, but I do worry about you. The past few months, you've been...different."

Oh, god. This was not happening. Not now. My throat clenched tight and I looked away from her, hoping I could keep the tears away until after she left. "I've just been stressed about money and bills."

More lies. Would I ever stop?

"I know, but things seem worse lately. I don't think I've seen you smile for weeks." Hearing her say that made my gaze flicker back to her face. She sighed and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You know you can tell me, right? I know I come off as a bitch, but I do care."

I nodded and looked away again. This time, the tears burned harder and I knew I wouldn't be able to ignore them. I could feel them pooling up in my eyes and I blinked them away quickly. Despite the lump in my throat, I was able to find my voice. "I know. I just...I've gotten caught up in stuff lately that I'm having a hard time dealing with."

Chelsea stepped closer and set her purse down on the counter beside her. "What kind of stuff?"

"Someone. A guy." I reached up and quickly wiped at my eyes with my jacket sleeve. "He...isn't a good guy."

"Jesus, Nat...did he hurt you?"

I was shaking my head before the question had even left her mouth, but it was a lie. He had hurt me. He had put his hands around my throat, he had bitten me and cut me and hurt me in more ways than just physical. But how could I even begin to tell her the truth? It was too late for that.

"I'm okay. He didn't hurt me, he's just...a bad guy." God that was the understatement of the century. He was more than a bad guy. He was a monster. I used my sleeve to wipe my face and shook my head. “He’s stalking me and coming here when he knows I’m alone.”

“So leave. Come with us.” Chelsea reached for me but I stepped away shaking my head. I crossed to the living room and put my hands in my hair. 

“You don’t understand. I can’t leave. If it’s not him, then it’s his stupid...friends, or whatever.” I still had to be careful about my words. Though I was finally being honest with her, I couldn’t bring myself to tell the whole truth. I couldn’t stand to see the look in her face if she knew. 

For a moment, Chelsea stood where I had left her in the kitchen and I watched as she slowly turned to face me. Her eyes were narrowed and lips pursed. She crossed her arms over her chest and my stomach dropped a bit. “Tell me something, Nat. Did this guy and his friends have anything to do with us being robbed?”

My back stiffened and I could feel my throat clamping tightly over any words I wanted to say. A hundred lies popped into my head but none made it to my mouth. It was as if my body was tired of lying and just refused to do it anymore. Which meant tears started to pool up once more in my eyes and at the sight of them, Chelsea shook her head. 

“You knew who broke into our apartment and you didn’t tell the cops? You didn’t tell _me_? What if I had been here?”

“But you weren’t--”

“That’s not the point!” She threw her hands in the air and stared at me in disbelief and anger. It was only a fraction of what she would look at me with if she knew the whole truth. “Fuck, Natalie! I’ve been having nightmares for the past two weeks. They stole the money I was saving up for my _wedding_, for fuck’s sake.”

“I know,” I said quickly, pressing a hand to my tender throat. “And I’m going to get your money back, I promise.”

“No wonder they didn’t take anything of yours.” She scoffed and snatched her purse from the counter. “I worried myself sick over you and all this time it was because of _you_. I want you gone.”

My jaw fell slack and I watched her from across the room as she moved toward the front door. The look of rage on her face nearly made me keep my mouth shut but I couldn’t stop myself. “Chelsea, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, it just spiraled out of control. Please, don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything,” she said, whirling back around to face me. I stared at her through the blur of my tears. “_You_ did this, Natalie. I don’t know when--or even if--we’ll be back. But I want you gone.”

And with that, she threw the door open, stormed through it and slammed it shut behind her. The chain swung wildly in her wake and rattled from the force of it and in her absence, I let myself sob. 

She was right though.

I did this. 

The tears burned as they spilled down my cheeks and I lowered myself onto the edge of the couch. I didn’t know what was worse; the pain in my stomach from the morning-after pill, or the mental anguish of having to endure all of this alone. Either way, I knew I had been selfish. 

I could have stopped this a long time ago and I had been a coward. I had thought of myself as a pacifist but I had been wrong.

_No one’s a pacifist. You’ve either killed someone or haven’t had the opportunity yet._

I leaned forward and dropped my head onto my knees again, sobbing hard into them. I wanted his voice out of my head. He had been right. He had been right about me from the start. 

With a scream scratching at my throat, I was on my feet and in my bedroom in just a few short steps. I slammed the door shut and raked my fingers through my hair, turning to the mirror hanging on the wall. I stared at myself in the reflection--really looked at myself. 

I stepped closer and wiped quickly at the tears lingering in the corners of my eyes. They were both rimmed with red from crying so hard, puffy and swollen. But just beneath that, there was a darkness that I could no longer blame on exhaustion. 

Was this what he had seen the first time he saw me in Bruce Wayne's penthouse? All scared and eyes wide with something I didn't even know I kept hidden. I moved closer to my reflection and stared into my own eyes. _Behind those eyes_, he had said to me just last night. _You were just begging for me to tear you to pieces_. 

Maybe he had been right about that too. 

I looked away from my reflection and down at the drawer in my bedside table. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I pulled the drawer open and found the playing card still sitting where I had kept it. The typed letters on the front had terrified me the first time I saw them. They had made me sick to my stomach and now…

Now I didn’t know what to feel. I didn’t know what was wrong or right, truth or a lie anymore. For what felt like hours, I sat on the edge of my bed, trying to replay everything that had happened since that night I took that catering job. I tried to remember what I had thought when he had reached up to wipe champagne from my face.

I remembered smelling him everywhere and even now, I could close my eyes and recall the way his scent made me feel. Was it always like this, or had I been disgusted by it at first? 

It was dark by the time I finally stood to my feet and moved to the window across the room. Outside, a few cars passed, but the lights in the building on the other side of the street were dark. If anyone was home in the apartments, they were hiding. 

Without thinking, as if my body moved before my mind had a chance to stop it, I reached into my pocket and pulled the burner phone back out. It was nearly eleven o’clock. I wondered where he was, what he was doing. Planning more destruction and deaths? 

I sniffed and tapped through the options until I found that same unsaved number. He wouldn’t answer. I told myself that I would only call once. If he denied the call, then that was it. I couldn’t torture myself all night. 

My thumb was shaking as I hovered it over the call button and with my eyes shut tight, I pressed it. The trill of the ring at my ear made me shiver and I leaned my head against the windowsill as I waited. One ring. Two...Three…

The realization that he would ignore my call made me sick to the stomach. But what had I honestly been expecting? I pulled the phone away from my ear just a fraction of an inch before I heard the fourth ring cut off in the middle. I held my breath, waiting for the automated message to play.

When it didn’t, I swallowed. 

“Hello?” I asked in a whisper. 

“I’m a bit _busy_, Natalie.” 

I almost laughed out loud. The way he said my name told me he was irritated with how I had spoken to him earlier. Rolling my eyes, I leaned against the windowsill once more. “I don’t want you to die.”

“Good to know.”

Oh yeah, he was pissed. 

“I don’t necessarily think you deserve to live. But I don’t want you to die.”

“Is that right? Well, _Natalie_, I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

“Wait,” I stood up straight and hoped he wouldn’t hang up on me. When he sighed, I took a breath and looked back at the playing card laying on my bed. “Will you answer one question for me?”

“Maybe.”

“Did…” I swallowed, not yet knowing exactly what I wanted to ask him. Well, that was a lie. I knew what I wanted to ask, I just didn’t know how. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and started again. “Was I ever anything more than a plaything to you?”

After only a second’s hesitation, he answered. “You were exactly what you wanted to be.”

It made me squeeze my eyes shut and I pressed my head to the frame of the window. His answer infuriated me, but I was too exhausted to let that anger consume me as it had earlier today. 

“Please,” I whispered, hating that I was always begging him for something. “Just be honest for once. I need to know if I mean anything to you at all or if I was just a distraction between the chaos. Can you please just give me that?” 

The seconds ticked by like hours and as each one passed, I felt my heart breaking more. It was already shattered, but his silence was the boot heel grinding the pieces up into dust. I dragged in a shuddering breath and nodded. 

“Your silence speaks volumes. Please just leave me alone. Whatever happens with your plans, or whatever, just forget I exist.”

“Oh, I can’t do that.”

I tilted my head back and looked up at the ceiling, my voice cracking as I spoke. “Why?”

“Because, _sweetheart_\--” hearing him call me that again made my stomach flutter. “--you’re mine.”

And with that, he ended the call. I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the screen. Against my better judgment I called him back. I don’t know why, but I just had to know. 

“The person you called has a voicemail box that has not been set up yet--” The automated voice at my ear made me scoff. No rings this time. He either blocked this number or turned his phone off. I didn’t know which was worse. I tossed the phone on my bed and left it behind. 

I wasn’t going anywhere, but I needed fresh air. This apartment where I was no longer welcome was growing stale already. I didn’t bother shutting the door behind me as I made my way down the stairs and to the front door of the building. A car raced by on the street and from far off, a car alarm was blaring loudly. 

I slipped out into the night and took a seat on the top step of the stoop. There was no point in hiding. After tonight, he would come look for me again. He’d find me and we would start this all over again. There was no escape, no way out, no matter how much I ran. 

The echoes of his voice in my head made me close my eyes. _Because sweetheart, you’re mine. _

It almost made me laugh. The more I repeated it in my head, the more I couldn’t hold it in. I laughed quietly and put my head in my hands as I sat on the front stoop. 

Time ticked by and I wondered what Chelsea had told Greg. Was he calming her down, talking sense into her, or was he just as furious with me as she had been? Were they out of Gotham yet? I hoped they were. I hoped they didn't come back. 

It was awful of me, but I didn’t deny it. Around midnight, I was shivering and pulled my jacket around me. How long would it take before he sent one of his henchmen after me again? Would it be tonight or tomorrow? Would he let the bruises around my throat and marks on my body heal first or would he want to admire what he had done to me?

A tear touched the corner of my eye and I wiped it away. For just a little while longer, I sat on the steps and took deep breaths of the night air. It was a bit unnerving sitting here, waiting for more explosions, more tremors to race through the streets. 

My body felt wound tight, braced for the shockwave, waiting for the fire and destruction. The longer it took, the more anxious I felt about things. From down the street, a car horn beeped rapidly and I whipped my head in the direction it came from. It raced by at the end of the street and I frowned.

Another car sped by, horn blaring and I stood to my feet. Was something finally happening? 

Behind me, inside the building, I could hear someone shouting and I whirled around. What the hell was going on? I took a step up to the door but from the building down the street, several people poured out into the streets. They were hugging and cheering loudly and for some reason, it made my stomach sink with worry.

Slowly, more people emerged from their hiding places and I could only stare in disbelief. I hurried down the steps just as a truck raced by. Through the open windows, the driver and passenger waved their arms in celebration.

“They did it!” The guy in the passenger seat shouted as they passed. “They caught that fucker!”

Just like Greg referring to Joker as that bastard, I knew exactly who they were talking about when they said that fucker. I stood on the sidewalk and watched the car speed by until the red lights disappeared around the corner. Sounds of celebration surrounded me and I could only cross my arms over my chest to try to soothe the strange ache deep inside me. 

Car horns echoed between the buildings and down the street, a few people were gathered on the sidewalk cheering and laughinb. I stared at them with a scowl twisting my face. 

I didn’t feel glad and I wasn’t upset. I was numb to it all. 

With another shiver racing down my spine, I turned on my heel and walked back into the building. The night I left behind, with no explosions or clouds of dust and fire rising to the sky, felt strange. Almost, anticlimactic. 

I expected more from him. 

Upstairs, on the third floor, I could hear one of the tenants cheering in his apartment. Whoever he was with was clapping and I turned on the stairs to make my way back to my bedroom. 

“It’s over!” Was the last thing I heard them shouting before I shut the door behind me. 

And even as the words circled my head, I didn’t believe them. It wasn’t over. It never was with him. 

I moved into my bedroom and quietly shut the door, kicking my shoes off as I peeled the jacket from my shoulders. With the sounds in the street still carrying on, I crawled into bed and rolled my face into my pillows. My hand stretched out across the blankets and I found the slick playing card I had left there. 

_One for me, one for you_. I read the words over and over and rolled onto my back to stare at the ceiling. My mind, my body, everything was still so numb to it all. I felt nothing and I was thankful. Closing my eyes, I pulled my pillow closer to myself and held it tight. 

And just for tonight, I let myself imagine that he hadn’t answered my earlier question with silence. Just for this moment--because tomorrow, I would hate myself all over again--I pretended he had told me what I had wanted to hear and that this wasn’t over.

But it was. 

* * *


	20. Until Next Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it guys! I've had so much fun writing this fic...even though I took a few breaks here and there. Thank you so, so, soooo much for reading and for those that commented and left kudos, just know you guys helped keep this fic going. So, again, thank you! Also, there's a sneak peek of sorts at the end of the chapter for the sequel!

* * *

_Even if you change your mind_   
_It doesn't have to mean that it's over_

* * *

In the days after, the city seemed stuck in a sort of limbo. Gotham had been living in fear for so long, that it almost seemed like a trap to be relieved. There was still a sort of tension in the air like we were all expecting this all to be another elaborate trap of Joker's. But the more time that passed, the easier it was to just breathe.

The average Gothamite watched the news segments about his arrest and incarceration into Arkham with relief and reassurance.

But I wasn't the average Gothamite. I was different. I knew better than any of them the kind of monster he was, what lengths he would go to destroy the city, and what he was willing to do to prove his point. I had seen him up close and personal. Though I never even knew his name, I saw glimpses of who he was behind his persona.

I hadn't realized it then, but in the weeks after that night, I had plenty of time to sit around and think back on it all. Every second we had spent together replayed through my head over and over and I had no choice but to analyze it all.

The split-second glimpses he would give me where the black of his eyes parted just enough that I could see something behind them, the way he had touched me that night in the SUV--that careful caress of his fingers on my knee--and the way he kissed me were pieces to a puzzle I didn't even know I was putting together.

But in the wake of his destruction on Gotham and me, I had nothing else to do but think about him--about us. It wasn't a relationship. I wasn't _ that _ naive. It was Stockholm Syndrome or something equally as fucked up. He forced his way into my life and forced me into these thoughts, into the things I had done and I hated him for it.

I had wanted them, but I never would have wanted any of it if _ he _ hadn't made me want them with his stupid mind games. At least, that's what I told myself. After the night he was caught, after allowing myself just a few hours to play pretend and fantasize about what it would be like being with him in a _ normal _relationship, I swept it under the rug and knew I had to start picking up the pieces of myself that he left behind.

Some of the pieces were ground into dust and I knew there was no hope. It would take years of therapy to be able to trust someone or to stop looking over my shoulder for him. The more I thought about him, about what we had been, the more it hurt and confused me. Eventually, to keep my sanity, I had to stop.

I put it behind me and didn't allow myself to think of him as anything but a monster who had wreaked havoc on my life. He was gone and it was time for me to fix my life.

Chelsea and Greg did come back about two weeks after the incident on the ferries. I didn't ask them about it, and they never volunteered any information. For the most part, I avoided any and all mention of him with anyone.

If the news played an update, I turned it off.

If I heard someone talking about him in the streets, I would walk away.

Thankfully, Abby caught on quickly and after only bringing him up once, she got the hint when I instantly changed the subject. She never mentioned him again.

Whatever Chelsea and Greg had gone through that night, it brought a bit more compassion into her heart and she allowed me a month to find another place to live. And while a couple of months prior, facing eviction would have terrified me and sent me running home to my parents with my tail tucked between my legs, I wasn't afraid anymore.

I took the job that Abby's boss had offered me--even though I had sworn to myself that I would never work in catering again. I needed a cover though. A girl with no job, renting an apartment with a fuck ton of cash, might have thrown up some red flags.

But a girl with an alright job, renting a single bedroom apartment for a decent price in the right part of the city? Well, no one would suspect that girl of having a fake savings account with nearly three million dollars.

Each time I used Jaclyn Napier's ID at Gotham Savings and Loan, I was terrified that they'd somehow figure it all out and the police would swarm the building to arrest me for fraud. But each time, the teller would smile politely and withdraw the money I requested. She never asked questions, never suspected anything.

The first time had been so nerve-wracking, I nearly knocked over the small bowl of suckers that the tellers had set out for kids. I had laughed and tried to brush it off as clumsiness, and I was surprised when the teller apologized to me and helped me pick each piece of candy up.

She put the bowl away and beamed her best customer service smile at me. I swallowed and kept my hands off the counter, just in case she would see them trembling.

"How much can I withdraw at once?"

"You have a daily limit of ten thousand dollars that can be taken out of your account. It's bank policy that anything over that amount has to be reported. If you do need more than ten thousand, we can do it in increments over a couple of days."

My mouth had gone dry and I reached up to tuck my hair behind my ear. "No, that's okay. I'm just...I'm renting an apartment and needed a deposit." If she noticed how much I struggled just to make coherent sentences, she didn't let on. "Ten thousand will be fine."

"Of course," the woman said, pulling a slip of paper out of one of the folders near her computer. "I'll just need you to sign the withdrawal form and if you need any more money, you're free to take out a thousand dollars a day in the ATM."

I blinked at her as she pointed across the lobby to a short, metal box with the bank logo on the front of the screen. Forcing a smile, I turned back to her and picked up the pen she had laid out on the withdrawal slip. "Thank you," I said, hoping she didn't see the way my fingers shook as I signed my name--my _ other _ name.

She disappeared to count the money and in the few minutes she was gone, I was sure that the guard standing near the front doors would come over and tackle me to the ground. I glanced back at him and found him busy picking something out of his teeth with his pinky fingernail.

When the teller came back to her window, with my stack of cash in two separate envelopes, she took the slip of paper I had signed, told me to have a nice day, and that was it. I walked out of the bank with money that wasn't mine, using a name that wasn't mine, and it was all thanks to my fake, newly incarcerated husband.

He had never told me what this money or this account was for--though he never really had the chance. Did he really expect me not to use it?

Sure, someone would eventually come for it, but until then, it was mine. Walking out of the bank that day, I smiled for the first time in weeks and felt that strange sensation tingling through my chest. What was it? Oh yeah, _ happiness. _

It was such a foreign concept to me that I had no idea how to even recognize it anymore. Of course, I didn't let the momentary happiness distract me from being careful. I covered my tracks the best I could and even deposited money every month into the savings account. Nothing seemed more suspicious than millions of dollars just sitting there.

Something had to be coming in if I was going to keep taking it out.

And I did. The longer I got away with using the account, the more I convinced myself that it wasn't stolen money. I had earned it after the weeks of torment I endured.

After several months of working with Abby, I took a job working as a front desk receptionist for a real estate investment company. The job was easy, I got paid well enough, and I didn't have to deal with food or serving snotty rich people anymore.

"God, I'm so jealous of your job," Abby said as she reclined in one of the chairs situated in the lobby of Gotham Capital. She crossed her long legs and thumbed through the stack of fashion magazines set out on the table in the center of the room. "You don't have to come home smelling like steamed broccoli or oysters anymore."

I laughed and logged my information into the computer at my desk. A perk about the job was I got an hour lunch and the building was conveniently located only three blocks away from Abby's apartment. It was our new weekly routine to meet at least once for lunch.

"Yeah, but I miss the leftovers. I'm the worst cook in the city, I think." I shut the computer down and stood, reaching for my purse hanging on the hook behind my desk.

"I think that title belongs to my brother. The last time he tried to make a frozen pizza, the neighbors called the fire department, thinking he was burning the building down."

Since it was Thursday, we strolled to the corner where our favorite pizza place was and decided to sit out on the tables in front of the shop to enjoy the sunshine. It was a gorgeous day and I was finally starting to get used to that happy feeling again.

I took a bite of my cheese pizza and wiped the grease off of my fingers with a napkin before crossing my legs. Abby sat down across from me with her own plate and launched into a story about learning her lesson about dating a coworker. She and her supervisor Brad had been on and off for the past few months and currently, they were _ off _after some drama had went down between them.

As she detailed the last disastrous date the two had been on between bites of pizza, I sat quietly and listened. It was a similar story to the last time they had broken things off, but I decided not to bring that up. Or that I told her this would happen again.

She gestured in the air and described Brad's bad habit of using the bathroom with the door open while she was at his place, and I laughed. But the smile on my face faded slowly and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I frowned down into my half-eaten slice of pizza.

I had felt this same thing before.

It wasn't like I had completely gotten over the paranoia that I used to feel. It was still there, still making me feel as if the walls were closing in and everyone around me was watching me. But it had been a while since I felt anything like this.

Just like the night that Abby had taken me out for drinks, I could feel _ someone _ watching me. I brushed the hair over my shoulder and glanced at the people around us, trying to find anyone who looked even remotely suspicious.

Across the street, a woman was walking her dog and too busy staring at her phone to notice me. A couple of men were working on a utility pole and a guy behind them was jogging in place, checking his pulse with his fingers at his neck. Everyone looked normal. No shady henchmen hiding in the shadows or between the parked cars. I knew I was being paranoid, but it was hard to shake this feeling.

There was no one left to do his bidding, I assured myself. He was locked up and had been for months. Even the news stations had moved on. He was no longer the gossip of the city and it seemed that everyone was starting to forget about him, or at least found something more interesting to talk about.

"Can you believe that?" Abby's voice finally broke through my thoughts and I turned back to face her with a smile. "He thinks _ I'm _ the one being ridiculous."

"Why do you keep hooking up with him?" I took a bite of my pizza and stared at her.

"Because," she sighed, ducking her head as she picked at an olive on the side of her pizza slice. "I don't know. I can't explain it. He's just got this way about him that I'm powerless against. The guy is everything I can't stand in a man and yet...I want him, you know?"

I understood more than I would ever admit. The pizza in my stomach was starting to make me feel sick and I lowered the crust back to the styrofoam plate. I tried to focus on what she was saying but it was hard when I still felt like I could feel someone staring at me. Ugh! I hated this feeling.

Sweat built up beneath my arms and I shifted on the chair. I shook my head to force the thoughts of being watched away. "I know what you mean. We all want what we shouldn't."

"Exactly." Abby chewed the last bite of her pizza and shook the hair from her face. We sat there in silence for several minutes, her deep in her thoughts and me trapped in my paranoia.

I hated this feeling, hated that even though he was deep within the bowels of Arkham, he still had this effect on me. It wasn't fair. I just wanted to be free.

"Oh, did you contact Dr. Greenberg?"

I winced. For the past two months, Abby had been trying to get me to make an appointment with the same therapist she'd been seeing. And while I'd been promising her I'd consider it, truth be told, I hadn't thought much about it. There wasn't anything wrong with therapy, but I couldn't even be honest with my friends when I was going through hell.

How could I expect to be honest with a stranger? Abby smacked me lightly in the arm. "She's _ amazing _. I swear, she would change your life."

"I'm just now getting my life on track. I don't know if I want it changed."

"Changed in a _ good way _, Nat."

Then again, what I couldn't tell my friends, would I be able to tell a therapist? It would feel good to say the truth out loud to someone. Well, not the whole truth. I could never tell anyone what truly happened but telling someone about the mental anguish I had been through could help.

With a sigh, I nodded and looked at my friend's smiling face. "Okay, I'll give it a shot."

"Great! You're going to love Dr. Greenburg!"

My lunch hour was coming to an end and instead of making Abby walk me back down to the office, we parted ways at Moe's Pizzaria with a hug. Walking back to work alone wasn't exactly ideal, especially with the creeping feeling still lingering along the back of my neck, but I needed a few minutes to shake this feeling.

It didn't take long to make it back to the office and once I was back inside, the paranoia was finally starting to subside. I pushed through the doors and hung my purse back on the rack behind my desk before turning to the computer. Over the top of my desk, I finally noticed a man sitting in the waiting area.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said with a sheepish laugh. He was dressed in jeans but had a rather nice polo shirt on. His shoes looked clean, but there was something odd about his appearance. Almost like he was trying a bit hard to look normal. There was a strange look in his eyes--almost as if he were amused to see me-- that made that paranoia creep back up my spine. "Do you have an appointment with someone?"

"No, I'm just waiting for a friend." The guy pointed toward the elevators and I nodded, taking a seat at the computer. As I turned the screen on, I noticed a gift bag sitting at his feet. The combination of the bright purple color and the green tissue paper sticking out the top of it made the sweat worse under my arms.

I stared at it for several moments, my eyes occasionally glancing up to the man. He flipped through a magazine and never looked at me once.

Was he _ avoiding _ me...or just being a normal person? I hated that I couldn't tell anymore. After all this time, it was still so hard for me to relax around anyone.

Finally breaking away, I turned to the computer and logged in. I had work to do. There were stacks of files to sort and I had to be done by the end of the day. After casting one last glance at the man in the waiting area, I scooped up the file folders on my desk and turned to the copy room.

It was always warm in the small space and I was thankful for it. My hands were always cold these days and I gravitated toward any source of warmth that I could find. It took about fifteen minutes to run the files through the copy machine and once they were done, I sorted them on the table in the room.

Plenty of time for the guy out in the lobby to leave.

But when I crossed the room back to my workspace, he was still sitting there in the same chair, with the gift bag still at his feet. The magazine was gone and he watched me as I moved. I tried not to make it seem like I noticed, but I couldn't help it. I glanced at him, meeting his gaze, and the smile he gave me made me regret eating that greasy slice of pizza.

As I moved to the filing cabinet to organize the folders, he stood up with the gift bag and my heart nearly jumped into my throat. I tucked my hair behind my ear and hoped he didn't move closer. Unfortunately, he did. He made his way to my desk and put the bag and his hands down on the counter, the smile on his face never fading.

I forced my best, friendly smile, and stood up straight. "Can I help you?"

"You look familiar. What's your name?" He tilted his head to the side and I watched his gaze slide down to my neck and chest before lifting back to meet my eyes once more.

"Natalie," I somehow managed to say.

"Hmm, don't think we've ever met before, Natalie. You just have one of those faces, I suppose."

Again, I forced a smile but didn't respond. I didn't know how to. There was nothing about him that fit together and I knew I had nothing to go on but my gut feeling and a gift bag with two very distinct colors. What could I do? Call the police on a guy because I didn't like his choice of tissue paper?

I was being ridiculous.

Who in their right mind would still be faithful to a man locked away in the depths of Arkham? Joker had plenty of tricks up his sleeves, but even this was far fetched.

Before either of us could say anything else, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. I let out a breath of relief as the guy stepped back and nodded to the figure coming out. He was met by another man who seemed just a bit out of place as well. The new guy said nothing to me as he walked out of the office and I frowned after him.

I don't recall any appointments made at this time and usually, my bosses stuck to a pretty rigid schedule. With another flash of the too wide for his face grin, the guy lingered behind for just a moment before bringing two fingers to his head for a weird kind of salute.

"See you later."

He took a step backward toward the door and I pointed down to the bag still sitting on the countertop. "Don't forget your gift bag."

"Oh no," He said, chuckling quietly. "That gift is for you, Ms. Jacobs."

Ice shot through my veins and I felt my knees start to go weak. Tears burned at my eyelids and I found myself shaking my head as he moved closer to the door. I had never told him my last name and I had no nameplate on my desk. He hadn't heard me answer the phone or speak to anyone. Though I wanted _ so _badly to be wrong, I knew there was only one other explanation.

My bottom lip quivered. I was frozen to the spot, terrified and powerless to do anything. What could I do?

With one last grin, the guy turned on his heel and pushed his way out of the office door. The bell above the door chimed as it shut behind him and my gaze slowly slid to the bag left behind on the counter. I should throw it away. I shouldn't look at it.

But I knew that I wouldn't be able to.

With my heart pounding and my fingers trembling, I reached for the bag. It was light, but that wasn't very reassuring. Shakily, I pulled the garish tissue paper out of the bag and stared down at a thin, rectangular box inside the bag. It was plain, unwrapped, but there was a pretty bow tied with a ribbon that matched the color of the tissue paper.

The loops of the ribbon were nearly perfect and I knew only one person who could make a bow that pretty for me.

A tear rolled over my eyelid and dropped to the desk, soaking into the neglected tissue paper. I reached into the bag carefully and pulled the box out. Slowly, I lowered myself into my chair and though my fingers were trembling so hard I felt as if I would drop it, I managed to pull the ends of the ribbon until it slipped free.

I pried the lid off and stared down at another slip of that same tissue paper. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest, pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. The tissue paper fell away and I stared down into my own face. A photograph taken of me, to be exact.

There were several pictures laying in the box and as I pulled each one out, the urge to throw up my lunch was becoming unbearable. I recognized each photograph. One was outside of my apartment building as I was leaving for work one day last week. There were three from that day, all different angles, taken from across the street or from far away.

I flipped to the next picture and put a hand to my mouth. It was Abby and me while we were waiting for a cab outside a bar over this past weekend. My paranoia wasn't just a lingering after-effect of my association with Joker after all. It was real.

After three more photos taken of me in several other places around the city, I reached the end of the stack and stared down at another playing card with the word _ Joker _ printed in the corners. And over the stamped image of a jester in the middle of the card was a typed message--a promise.

_ See ya soon, sweetheart _.

_ \--J _

* * *

[Here is a photo collage I made for the upcoming sequel.](https://fallenalien.tumblr.com/post/640497481748283392/a-collage-i-made-for-the-sequel-to-my-joker-fic)

Coming Soon: 

** All The Broken Pieces **

After he was gone, I was afraid I would never feel anything normal again. Even though he was locked away deep within Arkham Asylum like a caged animal, I knew better than to think he would stay there. I knew it was only a matter of time before he came back into my life and he would leave me broken all over again.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and want to read more!


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